Lay Me Down
by tomhiddlest0ner
Summary: Life as a werewolf isn't as easy as Derek Hale makes it out to be, and Grace Hart finds herself struggling in her day-to-day life, coping with a new-found romance that really isn't anything at all, her ex-boyfriend Jackson pleading with her and the strange new kanima, a creature that seems to have eyes on her… Second in the Angels and Werewolves series! Jackson/OC.
1. Every Time She Loses, She Runs Away

**A/N: So, if you haven't read Angels and Werewolves, I advise you do so. I'm treating this as a sequel and not an accompanying story, so some things explained in the last story will not be explained this time around. Anyways, enjoy as season two begins, AND HOW ABOUT THOSE TWO SEASON THREE EPISODES, HUH? HUH? OMG. **

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE:**

**EVERY TIME SHE LOSES, SHE RUNS AWAY**

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

Despite how much he missed Grace, Jackson Whittemore was feeling good – no, Jackson was feeling _great…_ Because soon, he'd have her back. His right side throbbed painfully but he could hardly feel it, instead focusing on what would come from the wound he'd acquired in the unholy, earliest hours of just this morning. He would be one of them soon – soon, he wouldn't be dead weight to Grace... he'd be able to have her back and everything would be okay again. He was sure of it. He hadn't slept much since she'd left him that day, but he'd tried his hardest to keep his appearance the same. The last thing he needed was someone realising that things were off... the only person who had noticed that Jackson was actually grieving was Danny, which didn't really surprise the boy at all. Danny had always known when his best friend was going through hard times.

Sighing, he pulled his car into the school car-park, his Porsche almost scraping someone's bike in the bike-stands._ Oops. _He didn't bother to correct his parking but instead just rushed inside to his locker, completely forgetting that he had his first class today with Grace... media classes, he'd always loved that class, where they'd pair up and film that stupid trailer they hadn't actually done much work on. He was sure they were falling behind but at the moment, he couldn't find himself to care. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Jackson slid into the hard plastic chair and leant his side against the wall, allowing his eyes to fall closed before the smell of her perfume reached his nose. He shot up, staring at her.

"Hi, Jackson," Grace said, her voice soft and somewhat awkward. "How are you?"

He pretended that his heart wasn't thudding in his chest though he knew she could hear it. "Fine," he stated, throat suddenly dry. He'd barely seen her in the two weeks since she'd ended things and although they'd had a few classes together, media was the only subject they actually talked in, and that was if their awkward one-liners to each other could even be considered as a conversation.

"Is that a lie?" she asked, and he glanced away from her with a scowl on his face.

"It's none of your business since you left me," he snapped, suddenly angered with how casual she could act around him. She'd broken him like he did her, but she still loved him – he knew it. He pressed his lips together and looked away, finding that Mr Roberts was looking right at him, eyes narrowed. When he noticed that Jackson was looking, the man glanced away quickly and clapped his hands together, beginning to speak to the class though neither Jackson nor Grace were listening. After a moment of silence between the two, Jackson spoke. "Are you going to help find Lydia after school today?" he asked, assuming that Grace would know of Lydia's disappearance. Grace turned to him, frowning deeply.

"Excuse me?"

"The search parties for Lydia. Are you joining them?" Jackson repeated, furrowing his eyebrows. His tone with her was slightly less patient than before.

"Lydia's missing?" Grace demanded, and Jackson blinked. Lydia, who Grace had seen just a few days ago in the hospital, looking as gorgeous and acting as cynical as ever, and since their little sleep-over where she'd made out with Stiles and said to Grace – quote – "he's not really that bad," Grace had always thought her getting better. Apparently not.

"I thought you of all people would know," Jackson said, staring at the brunette.

"No, I _don't_ know!" How could nobody tell her that one of her best friends was missing? She backtracked through this morning, wondering if she'd even seen anyone who knew Lydia that well. Stiles... she'd briefly talked to him in the halls, but his mind had been elsewhere – on Lydia, Grace would presume. She hadn't talked to Scott in a few days since he was quite snippy about her agreeing to be in Derek's pack. Clara and sheriff Stilinski... yes, she'd seen them this morning at her house and they'd seemed a lot more awkward than usual, but Grace had just assumed they were fighting over something stupid like the fact that there was no porridge in the Hart household – the sheriff had begun staying nights since the two or so weeks of dating Clara, and it wasn't that Grace minded.

It was that they'd known, and yet they'd said nothing to Grace.

Raking her hands through her hair, Grace sighed heavily and cursed, causing Jackson to drop his somewhat hard expression and glance over at her, realising that there were tears in her eyes. It worried him, seeing her like this. It wasn't an expression or attitude he often saw on his Grace, which made it all the worse, and she made him scared – not for his own life or safety, but for her own. She was so angry – how could she not have been informed about this?! Slowly, Jackson reached out and grabbed one of her hands, giving it a light squeeze. Though Grace wanted to protest, the gesture was comforting and she'd missed having him around. Two weeks was too long and she needed him again, she needed to hear him say that he'd be there for her. After a moment of hesitation, Grace squeezed his hand back, giving him a small smile.

"She'll be fine," Jackson said, giving her a reassuring smile.

He didn't mention that he wasn't sure he believed that himself.

* * *

As soon as the bell went, Grace was grabbing her bag and practically running out of the classroom, avoiding a steely gaze from Mr Roberts that she had to admit was incredibly creepy, but she didn't have time to consider that he was anything but weird. She, unlike Jackson trailing behind her, was not on her way to the boy's locker room to join the search party for Lydia, but darting through the corridors until she reached the cool air outside, seeing Derek's flashy car parked out front. He grinned at her, sunglasses on, a picture of eye-candy. She pressed her lips together in a thin smile, taking a moment to admire Derek's image before shaking the thoughts out of her head.

Despite how insanely attractive Derek was, he would never be Jackson. He would never be the boy who'd held her hand and told her things would be okay, the boy who'd promised to be here forever. And it would be unfair to ask Derek to be that – the two didn't really like each other, but there was something of a mutual respect for one another that made them work and allow themselves to appear easy-going and genuinely happy around each other. Their façade was fooling everyone… everyone except themselves. And Derek didn't mind that Grace didn't have _real_ feelings for him, because he didn't really _love_ her either.

The tiny brunette was something of a deity for him, a sacred supernatural being that he was sworn to protect. There was a close relationship there for them and maybe the odd sparks flying here and there, but the chemistry was somewhat… forced. So why was he doing it? Derek often asked himself that question, wondering if there was a motive to his own actions before realising that yes, there was. Of _course_ there was. He needed a pack, that much was obvious, and having Grace beside him would ensure a more enticing vision of perfection. Although not Derek's type, there was no denying that the brunette was an icon of beauty and though she didn't know this herself, there was an air of confidence around here that just attracted people.

Attraction was what Derek needed.

So he'd take the injured underneath his wing, offer a family-like pack with two head-strong, beautiful and respectable leaders. It was the way he'd rebuild his family, make sure each and every member of the pack knew just how important they were to him, even if he was a complete hard-ass and total jerk. Grace had said such things to him numerous times throughout their training sessions, but Derek had always rolled his eyes and smirked at her, giving her a small peck on the cheek before telling her to go through it again, his voice commanding.

Strangely enough, Grace didn't mind this lifestyle. It was a minor sacrifice for her friends, family and herself being safe. _A minor sacrifice,_ she reminded herself as she hopped into Derek's car, leaning over and kissing him hard on the lips to entertain their viewers, a few bug-eyed freshmen in awe over her position. Allison stood at the top of the stairs, her eyebrows furrowed in concern – Derek was bad news, she knew that, and although she hadn't spoken properly to Grace in a while, Allison was concerned for her friend, especially since it was _almost_ obvious that she was still torn up over Jackson.

"You need to change before we go," Derek said, glancing at Grace's attire – a pair of deep red shorts and a blank tank-top with an absurd saying written in white, a denim jacket over her shoulders. The brunette rolled her eyes, slightly amused.

"I don't get cold," she said, and Derek snorted.

"People will notice there's something wrong with a teenage girl _not_ cold while wearing a pair of… are they even shorts? They look like underwear."

"Shut up, Derek!" Grace protested, her voice raising a few decibels toward the end of her sentence. Derek winced and put the car in drive, pulling out of the car-park and heading straight to his place, the silence hanging over them like a blanket though not uncomfortable. "How was your day?" Grace asked as they turned into a deserted road, nearing the forest. The alpha shrugged his shoulders slightly and wrinkled his nose.

"What do you know about Isaac Lahey?" he asked, and Grace raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the man.

"Why?" she asked. "Planning to turn him?"

"You shouldn't sound so cynical about it," Derek muttered, only half joking. "It doesn't have to be a curse."

She didn't respond – she and Derek had gone through this argument many a time, the girl insisting that she'd rather be human though both she and Derek knew why that was… Jackson. It all came back to Jackson with her, and the alpha was totally past caring. Instead, he sighed through his nose and turned to her, still driving. "He gets beaten at home, I've been watching," the man said, and Grace's eyes widened. Now, looking back on the short conversations she'd shared with Isaac at lacrosse games and practices, she wondered how she didn't notice. The boy was sunken-eyed and paled most of the time, his delicate ivory skin constantly tagged with bruises and scratches, though Grace had just assumed it was the life of a teenage boy.

"His dad is a dick," Derek deadpanned, and Grace nodded and swallowed thickly.

"Just make sure you let him know what he's getting into," she said, tone hard as she pressed her lips together. Derek daren't defy the girl – she'd catch him off-guard and beat him within every inch of his life, he knew that. She was strong and the practices and combat training they'd been doing had certainly paid off. It was that and the amazing about of pent-up anger the girl held inside, but he didn't like thinking about that. It made him angry, as though Grace having to make the sacrifices she did was some huge injustice. Derek hadn't ever thought anything an injustice before and he certainly wouldn't admit this to Grace, knowing she'd either tease him endlessly or bring an end to their charade.

Neither Grace nor Derek were ready to let their perfect world slip away just yet.

* * *

Grace sighed as she trekked through the forest, now wearing a pair of her own skinny jeans – where the hell had Derek gotten them from? – and one of Derek's t-shirts, which was almost a dress on her. The denim jacket from earlier was over her shoulders though the warmth had little effect. Admittedly, that small thing was a piece of human-hood that Grace missed… being able to be cold, being able to feel warm. The girl had always hated waking in the morning with ice-cold toes, but she yearned for that familiar yummy feeling of shoving her feet in her fluffy slippers and curling up in her cotton dressing-gown. Swallowing, she kept her focus on the feint scent of Lydia, Chanel No. 5 assaulting her nose.

"Do you think she's out here?" Grace asked, and Derek glanced at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"Smells like," he said, and that could have been funny if the situation wasn't so serious. It was her close friend Lydia Martin, bare-skinned and alone in the woods… she didn't like thinking about it.

Cocking her head to the side, Grace frowned and listened closely, the sound of footsteps crashing through the forest catching her attention. Not one person, but six or seven of them in a group, all smelling of cheap bottled deodorants for men that barely managed to mask their sweaty stench. Grace wrinkled her nose at the figures emerging from the trees and she almost had a fit when she recognised Danny, Roman and Jackson among the group of boys, hands in their coat pockets as they scanned the forest. At some point in time, Derek had grabbed Grace's hand in a protecting motion in case of danger, but as her eyes met Jackson's, she dropped it fast as though it was burning her skin and tore her eyes from her ex-partner, swallowing nervously.

Most of the search group passed them by with weird looks as if to ask why Grace was hanging with such a creep, but as they looked around, Danny, quite close to Roman, paused to talk. Jackson looked back as though wanting to leave, but awkwardly stood around Grace's older brother as though shielding himself from the small girl and her new companion. "Hey, guys," Danny said, his tone cheerful though the awkwardness of the meeting was obvious.

"Hi, Danny," Grace greeted, smiling as though nothing was wrong. "I didn't know you were coming out, Roman," she noted, wondering why her brother hadn't told her about joining the search party. He shrugged slightly, 'yeah' being his only response. Grace pressed her lips together, running a hand through her hair. "Is anyone any closer to finding her?"

Danny shook his head and sighed, a puff of steamy air swirling around his mouth as he did so. It was freezing for him and Jackson, Grace realised, suddenly sympathetic. "It's getting colder, too," he muttered, frowning. "I just hope we find her before it gets too late."

"She's not dead," Grace said, almost too quickly. She sounded desperate, almost, but everyone knew she had no way of telling whether Lydia was dead or alive, supernatural powers or not. Jackson chewed the inside of his cheeks, which were pink in the cool air. Grace almost smiled at the sight. "I just… I don't think she's dead. She's strong, Lydia. She'll make it," the brunette finished with a nod.

Derek cleared his throat, leaning down toward Grace, his lips brushing her head. "We should keep going," he said quietly, and she nodded, cheeks turning a bright red at this close gesture though it was almost nothing. Jackson tried not to look, but as Danny and Roman began to leave, he gave Derek a look that meant business and the alpha rolled his eyes, moving a few feet away, still completely in hearing range. Grace glared and he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away from them, disappearing behind some trees.

"Your hair looks nice," Jackson noted, raising his eyebrows a smidgen. Since their break up, Grace had kept it the trimmed length, liking how her wavy hair sat on her shoulders nicely and out of her way though still thick and unruly as ever. Recently, she'd added a sandy-blonde through her otherwise dark locks in an ombre fashion, liking how it ran through her hair and faded into her natural dark-chocolate hair. "I did like it longer, though," the boy before her added as an afterthought, licking his lips.

"I needed a change," Grace said stiffly, suddenly feeling nervous. She missed him and the temptation to just kiss him right then and there was overwhelming, but she wouldn't – she _couldn't._ "I thought it was time for a new me."

"Because you got bit by some crazy-ass wolf guy?" Jackson asked with his tone slightly nastier than intended. He ignored it, looking at Grace expectantly.

"No, Jackson," she sighed, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes. She'd almost missed this side of him, sarcastic and witty and horrid to her though she _knew_ he never meant it. It reminded her of before they'd started dating for a second time, of when she fell for him and hated herself for doing so. "I need a change because things can't stay the same forever, not even people."

He was caught aback by how she snapped at him and he heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes as a sign of defence. She knew that he was only appearing nonchalant as a shield, she knew Jackson better than anyone. The girl shook her head, reaching up to rub her forehead. "I need to get back to Derek," she said, starting to walk away. Just out of hearing range, Jackson's scouting group waited for him, growing cold and impatient. "They're waiting for you."

Jackson reached out, slender fingers gripping her forearm gently. "Why are you with that ass?" he asked, referring to Derek, and Grace fought the lump in her throat, shaking her head slightly.

"You wouldn't understand," she said, and he snorted, knowing that he usually knew her better than anyone else – so why couldn't he get a solid reason for why she was doing this, acting the way she was?

"I think you're just scared of being alone," Jackson stated suddenly, hitting a nerve. Grace tore her arm away from him, sneering, but Jackson cut off the cruel words boiling on the surface of her tongue. "No one knows better than us what that feels like." He turned, shaking his head at her as he rejoined his group and left her standing alone in the forest, knowing she'd locate Derek when she was ready.

Grace hated how true his words were.


	2. Little Loss Of Innocence

**A/N: Thanks everyone so much for the support, I really love you guys, and I love that you love this story, omg. One chapter and we already have four reviews, 20 followers and 17 favourites! Sorry this chapter isn't very long. Now, for review replies: **

**BaDWolF89: **You may or may not be right on the ball with that one ;) Grace is very protective over those she loves and writing the season finale of season two will be a challenge.

**enimzajlove13: **You make me so tempted! I really love Derek this season and though in season one I was leaning away from him, it's so obvious that he cares about his pack so much. I adore him. And I may already have an idea for a Derek/OC. I just really like Teen wolf, ok?!

**Kat7CA: **I love your reviews omg, and I adore writing this story, so updates (hopefully) will be quick.

**Molly-Dice: **Thank you so much!

**Thanks for reviewing! /Love-hearts for everyone.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO:**

**LITTLE LOSS OF INNOCENCE**

* * *

Jackson clutched his nose in the mirror, the black liquid pouring from his nose and ears so fast he couldn't control it. His heart was beating fast – surely, this was all part of the bite? But he couldn't ever recall Grace mentioning something like this at all, and Derek sure as hell hadn't said anything. The alpha male somehow knew that something was up and he was soon at Jackson's side, frowning as he examined the boy closely, unsure that this was even a possibility. Then, of course, Derek realised.

"Your body is fighting the bite," he stated, eyebrows furrowed deeply. Jackson's heart sank.

"What? How is that even possible?" he demanded, and then he realised.

_Lydia_. He would admit that her being immune to this werewolf stuff had confused the hell out of him, but he hadn't put two-and-two together... she'd passed the immunity on to him, and now he was totally screwed. Perhaps it would wear off – in a few weeks time, he'd be able to take the bite again and Grace would take him back. But... he hadn't been with Lydia in over six months, not since before the school year began. How was this happening? The teenager slammed his fists down on the counter, his anger turning his face and neck a dull red. "This shouldn't be happening!"

Derek wasn't sure what to say. If he was being honest, he was slightly glad that nothing was happening to Jackson – he needed his pack first, he needed his perfect to be real, and that couldn't happen with the stupid Whittemore kid being in the pack, because deep down, Derek Hale knew that as soon as she had the chance, Grace would take Jackson back. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. At the same time, Derek couldn't help but feel sorry for Jackson. The boy had risked everything and taken the bite that Derek was sure Grace had told Jackson about, the bite that ruined everything, just so he could be with someone that he loved. And sure, there were other perks for the teenager, but Grace was his number-one priority, and Derek couldn't help but respect that choice. But, of course, Grace needed to not know about this, she couldn't know that Derek had offered Jackson the bite when he'd come to see the alpha, pleading and pleading until Derek's ears almost bled.

Hunched over, Jackson stared down at the drops of black blood on the bathroom sink, silent and breathing heavily. Hesitating, Derek turned and left the boy alone, not wanting to be in the position he was in.

Being an alpha was harder than he'd expected.

* * *

It had been Stiles who'd found Lydia, shivering with her arms wrapped around her naked body as though holding herself together. The strawberry blonde was dirtied and looking a mess, but she was alive, and neither Stiles nor Grace could even begin to explain how happy they were to find her. Stiles had ripped his father's jacket off and rushed forward to Lydia, draping the over-sized item around her shaking shoulders before pulling her into a tight hug, pleased to see her. To his surprise, Lydia hugged him back, the tiniest smile on her face.

Grace and Derek stood back, watching from the wings, Grace clutching Derek's hand tightly. She was as white as a ghost, terrified and happy all at once. Sheriff Stilinski licked his lips nervously, making his way over to the small brunette girl and glancing curiously at Derek before tearing his eyes away, silently asking why Grace would be with Derek Hale of all people. "Do you want Stiles to drive you home?" the sheriff asked, and Grace glanced up at Derek, who gave a small nod.

"Go home, you're tired and it's getting late," he said, voice softer than usual. She smiled slightly, nodding at the sheriff as the man turned and summoned his son, who was glad to take Grace home and then retreat to his own place, finally able to get some sleep. He often wondered why he cared so much about Lydia, but had since stopped questioning his motives and eventually just settled for the fact that he loved the girl, even if she couldn't stand him most of the time. As Stiles led Grace to his car, he cleared his throat, the silence between them almost awkward.

"So why are you with sour-wolf?" he asked, attempting to sound ever casual, but his tone was slightly harsh and Grace winced, looking down into her lap.

"Derek's not so bad," she said, wanting the conversation to be over. She didn't want to have to explain her motives to every curious werewolf or best friend she came across and she shouldn't have _had_ to. Grace just wished people would shut up and accept that her relationship with Derek was in no way close to coming to an end.

Puffing out his cheeks, Stiles nodded, though it was obvious he wanted to say more. After a moment of thick, pregnant silence, the boy talked so quietly, Grace almost didn't realise he'd said anything at all. "Why'd you do it, Grace?" he asked, not looking at his friend. She stared at him, wishing she didn't understand his question but knowing full well what he was talking about – her break up with Jackson.

"It's better for everyone this way," she just about whispered, swallowing the thick lump rising in her throat and wishing that she didn't have to talk about this... but she needed to, she needed some kind of outlet that nobody but Stiles could give her. He would listen, perhaps try and talk sense into her though it wouldn't work at all. Hot tears rose in her eyes, stinging harshly and making her blink away her mascara, which dripped down her cheeks with the fat, salty droplet. She sniffed and Stiles looked over, eyes filled with sorrow.

"Do you actually believe that?" he asked, genuinely curious. He wanted to understand what Grace had done; he _needed_ to know there was some of the old Grace still there. They'd barely talked since she'd left Jackson and there was not one sliver of the old her. She was dressing differently – scantily – and changing her hair, she was wearing actual make-up and getting into cars with Derek Hale. She had even changed her attitude, turning into a sarcastic, snappy girl with little patience. Stiles couldn't remember the last time they'd eaten lunch together.

"I don't know," Grace whimpered, and Stiles swallowed. She looked so fragile, her chin quivering. Grace was sure she looked a complete mess and wondered what Derek would think of her blubbering about a past that couldn't exist. He'd feel sympathetic, she knew that, but likely wouldn't show how guilty he felt for the destroyed relationship. "I miss him, Stiles, but it's safer this way."

"How?" he asked, and she bit her lip hard.

"If I'm not with Jackson, he's not in any danger. I can't hurt him; nobody seeking a stupid vengeance against werewolves has an excuse to hurt him. In the pack, I'm stronger. I can protect myself and everyone else this way."

"What about Scott and Allison?" Stiles questioned, and Grace gave a sarcastic snort.

"They can barely function as a normal couple. Their relationship is falling apart and they just can't let go. I couldn't let it get that far with Jackson and I."

But did she really believe that? Grace heard the words coming from her own mouth, but she couldn't be sure they were her own. Her thoughts her so different, the complete opposite to everything she was saying, but she vowed that she'd repeat her words until she genuinely believed them herself. Then, maybe, Jackson would move on. He deserved at least that much.

* * *

Home smelled of curly fries and vanilla incense sticks, which made Grace a little calmer about everything else. Danny was over, huddled in Roman's room as they read about a science project that Roman was supposedly helping the boy with, which Grace seriously doubted. If anyone was ever bad at science, it was her brother. But she liked how the two boys spent time together, how Danny knew nothing of what Roman was. She wished she'd had that luxury with Jackson, although it was far too late for that.

Her brother hadn't been an overly active member of the pack, but was definitely with them despite how mad he was with Grace over the whole Jackson thing. But Grace didn't mind that – he'd get over it soon enough when he realised nothing was going to change and soon, he'd have other things to worry about, like finally asking Danny on a date. Slipping into her pyjamas, Grace crawled into bed and curled up, her quilt wrapped around her thickly. A light rain was falling, making it impossible for her to sleep though it was never usually like that. She stared out her window, her mind void of any thoughts but how many raindrops she could count before, all of a sudden, Jackson's figure was at her window, tapping to get her to let him in.

Grace raised her eyebrows, padding over to the window and sliding it open, Jackson practically toppling inside. He shivered as he stood, hair damp, eyelashes covered in raindrops... Grace swallowed. "What are you doing here?" she asked, and he shrugged his shoulders, still freezing. She winced, reaching forward to tug off his saturated jacket before instructing him to remove his shirt, too. She had a few of his shirts here from the times he'd stayed over and grabbed one from her closet, unsure she wanted to part with it, but she gave it to him anyway, along with a thick blanket to wrap around himself. "Are you still cold?" she asked as he settled onto the beanbag. He shook his head.

"I'll be fine," he stated, though she remained unconvinced. "I just wanted to see you." He seemed to hang his head in shame at the last part of his sentence, eyebrows furrowed as he avoided Grace's gaze.

"Jackson, you can't do this," she said softly, her voice laced with the sympathy she couldn't hide from him. He winced at her words.

"I don't think you have the right to tell me what to do," he said, but his voice lacked the harshness he needed to make that sentence have any real impact on the girl. He sounded sad, pathetic and lonely. Just like Grace usually felt.

"It only makes it worse," Grace continued, almost pleading with him. She didn't want him to feel this way, she wanted him to move on and be happy with someone else. There was a line of girls waiting to take her place if only Jackson were willing to try. Swallowing, she looked away from him and sat on the edge of her bed, hands in her lap as Jackson stared up at her, eyes wide.

He wanted to argue with her and tell her what she already knew – she was wrong to leave him like that, they needed each other more than anything. But the words felt like lead on his tongue and he couldn't find the strength to say anything. Once with so much to talk about, the couple sat in the silence that weighed so heavily on their shoulders. They _missed_ each other, but there was nothing that could be done, there was nothing either could say. Heaving a deep sigh, Grace stood and walked slowly over to Jackson, seating herself beside him on the bean-bag and lacing her fingers with his despite the voice screaming in her head about how wrong this was.

"I miss you, too," she said quietly.

She couldn't deal with his empty gaze and quiet sigh.

* * *

Saturday came quickly after Jackson left, making Grace almost relieved. No more school, no more awkwardly running into Jackson and making small-talk that neither of them wanted. Instead, she went for a jog, turning up at Derek's crappy house a few hours later to see Isaac Lahey looking scared as ever, eyes wide and surrounded by a deep, dark circle. "Did I do that?" he asked Derek desperately, and Derek's eyebrows were knitted together in a confused stance. He looked up as Grace entered, nodding in acknowledgement before turning back to Isaac.

"What do you remember?" Derek questioned, and Isaac shrugged pathetically.

"Nothing," he said, and looked at Grace, blinking in surprise.

"Grace is one of... a werewolf?" he asked, and she smiled tightly and gave a nod.

"What happened?" she wondered, not bothering with the simple greetings, straight to the point.

"Isaac's dad was killed last night," Derek stated, looking at Grace with hard eyes. It was obvious how concerned he was, knowing full well how killing someone could create the worst monster there was, even worse than a teenage werewolf. Manslaughter ate you up inside, consumed you until there was nothing but darkness left, made sure you never forgot your actions despite how accidental they may be. "Didn't you hear?"

Grace shook her head, tucking a strand of hair from her tiny bun behind her ear. "No, I didn't." She glanced at Isaac. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess." She nodded, knowing full well why he was taking his father's murder so easily. Like her, he'd been ridiculed and made to look like a fool, abandoned by his father and beaten until he couldn't cope. Though Grace's abuse had never been physical, it had always been there. She gave a sympathetic look to the boy, hoping he knew that she didn't think less of him at all. How could she, when she'd once done the same thing herself? She wasn't entirely sure Isaac could have done that, though, but had no proof but the _feeling_ that he was as innocent as ever.

Grace couldn't remember what being innocent felt like. She'd killed her father and almost killed Peter before Derek had finished him off, and that had been a while ago. Now, she was just as damaged as Derek Hale, never to be as innocent as Isaac again. She desperately missed the innocence she'd once taken for granted, but said nothing to her friends and Derek, knowing that they wouldn't understand at all.

She just wished things were a little easier, but knew that nothing would be the way it used to.


	3. Stolen Mind, Wounded Heart

**A/N: You guys are the best, this story is so popular already omg and Angels and Werewolves is stILL GETTING REVIEWS this makes me happy. Also – I know I'm so indecisive when it comes to face claims, but please, please drop me some suggestions for Grace or Roman, and even Clara (God, I love that woman). – I'm thinking Rachel Bilson and Evan Peters. And how do you guys like the new cover art?**

**Molly-Dice:** Thanks for your review; I hope you got my message in your inbox in response to your question!

**WickedlyMinx:** Your reviews mean a lot, thank you so much!

**Kat7CA:** I wanna hug my baby girl too; she's very crazy in my mind at the moment. Makes for a very hard time during exams when I'm meant to be concentrating… damn it, Gracie. Thanks for your review, you rock ~ As for brushing of the fact that Grace killed someone – I think that for a while, Grace herself even forgot about it. She was surrounded by people she loved and now that all her friend-ships seem to be slipping away and she's lost Jackson, she's kind of dwelling on everything. She sees Isaac as a former version of herself, too, and doesn't really want to see him go down that past. My baby :c

**Please keep the reviews coming, love you guys!**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE:**

**STOLEN MIND, WOUNDED HEART**

* * *

Sitting in the bleachers on the school field, Grace's eyes scanned around the open space for someone familiar other than her brother, who sauntered toward her and sat beside her tiny frame, towering over her. She could hear conversations around the place and tried to tune them out, but Jackson's voice caught her attention and, though she felt bad, she tuned into the conversation he was having with Matt, amused at the amount of sarcasm in both boy's voices. "What are you recording?" Matt asked, and Jackson gave him a look that said he didn't want to explain.

"Something in low light, all night long," he retorted, voice snippy.

Matt smirked. "Has this got something to do with Grace?" he asked, and Jackson blinked. "Because she's a nice girl, and if you publish that-"

"It's got nothing to do with Grace!" Jackson interrupted, and Matt shrugged. From her position a little way away, Grace snickered, amused with the conversation. "Do you have the camera or not?"

"Do you have a hundred bucks?"

"I drive a Porsche, what do you think?"

"I think your parents have a hundred bucks," Matt quipped, and Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Just get me the camera," Jackson ordered, and Grace couldn't help but wonder why he wanted such a thing, though Jackson's apparent photography hobby wasn't number one on her list of things to worry about. With furrowed eyebrows and a scowl on her face, Grace watched the lacrosse practice, her arms crossed over her chest. Scott was acting strange – well, stranger than usual, and he was running out of the goals and tackling the opponents then, quite obviously, _sniffing_ them. What the hell was his problem? Grace frowned, not knowing much about lacrosse but knowing that what Scott was doing was certainly not a part of the game. From where she was sat, she heard coach Finstock demand to know from Stiles what Scott was doing, and she had to snigger at the reply.

"Well coach, he's failing two classes, is a little socially awkward and if you look close enough his jawline's kind of uneven."

What was funnier was Finstock's reaction. He glanced at Scott, considering Stiles' answer and nodding in appreciation, mumbling "interesting" as he walked back away from the line, catching the lacrosse ball and throwing it to the next player, which happened to be Danny. Grace glanced over at Roman, a knowing smirk on her face, though she frowned as her brother tensed. Looking over, the brunette could see that Danny was on the ground beside Scott, who was sniffing vigorously. Roman winkled his nose in distaste, muttering something about Armani aftershave just before Grace heard Danny say, "It's Armani."

Scott looked at the other boy quizzically. "What?"

"My aftershave," Danny stated, looking up at Scott through his helmet. "It's Armani."

Scott paused, furrowing his eyebrows as though considering this. "It's nice," he said, and Grace resisted the urge to start cackling. Roman was not very happy, frowning at Scott as he helped Danny up as though there could ever actually be something between McCall and Danny. The Hawaiian boy looked over and gave a wave to the siblings, smiling gently at Roman.

Grace was sure that was a slight blush she saw on her brother's softening face.

As she continued to watch the practice, Grace observed with hard eyes, confused about what was going on. "What's he trying to do?" she asked Roman, who had lately been talking to Scott a lot more often than Grace had. The brunette cursed herself for that.

"He's trying to figure out who the new werewolf is," Roman said back, not taking his eyes off the boys on the field as he tried to help Scott. Off to her left, Jackson dumped his lacrosse stick and sat down a few chairs away, trying to keep his eyes on the drills but needing to sneak a glance at Grace, who was staring at Roman with wide eyes as she opened her mouth to reveal the identity of the newest teen wolf. "It's Isaac," Roman breathed before the girl could get a word in, and she watched as the two clashed harshly and toppled to the ground, staring into each other's eyes. Grace's heart jumped into her throat.

"Shit."

Roman glanced at her, quizzical. "You knew?" he demanded, and she nodded.

"And you would have too, had you been keeping up with Derek," she said, and the boy shrugged his shoulders and looked at Danny.

"I've been busy," Roman stated, and Grace snickered.

"You have me to thank for that," she taunted, and Roman snorted.

"Shut up, Grace."

* * *

Grace had slipped out early, sighing as she pulled out her phone to contact Derek about their situation so, naturally, she'd missed sheriff Stilinski sauntering across their field and leaving with Isaac in the back of his police car, a ginger expression on his features. Her phone buzzed in her hand as she began to dial the alpha's number and she stared at the screen, confused.

_Text (1)_

_Scott McCall_

_"Need 2 see u urgently, locker room please"_

Grace frowned, the buzz still echoing in her ear as she wondered what Scott could possibly need to urgently talk about. Running her hand through her hair, she considered just going home, but something told her that there really was an important situation at hand and though she doubted Scott's ability to judge whether or not something really was an emergency, she trusted him. He was, after all, her best friend. Or he had been. Grace wasn't entirely sure what they were anymore since she'd joined Derek's pack, but Scott seemed like he didn't mind the girl being in his enemy-slash-kind-of-friend. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, Grace pushed open the door to the boy's locker rooms, looking around for Scott before a sudden voice made her jump in surprise, a curse slipping from her lips before she caught the rest of her empty threat, caught off-guard by what was said.

"Isaac's been taken into custody at the police station."

The words were said carefully, slowly and deliberately as though the speaker hoped Grace wouldn't blow up at them. Turning around, Grace frowned deeply at Scott McCall, her face a picture of worry and surprise, but nothing more than terror. Isaac Lahey – the newest member to Derek's pack and a surprisingly lovely guy, had been accused of the murder of his father and taken into custody as a suspect, Scott explained. Grace swallowed thickly, feeling dread in the pit of her stomach. "Shit," she said, and Scott looked nervous. Grace narrowed her eyebrows. "What else is there?"

"The hunters are going there tonight to kill him."

_This _made Grace angry – Isaac was innocent, there was something there in his eyes that couldn't mean he was a killer, just the slightest glimmer of hope that even she didn't have anymore. It was something that, even though _he_ didn't know it, told Grace that Isaac was innocent. Derek seemed to believe her, too, because Grace's brown eyes had been wide and she'd been pleading with the alpha, begging him to believe her. She knew he was innocent, she knew that he hadn't killed his own father.

The question was; what _had_ killed Mr Lahey?

Grace felt worry surge through her, sending an angry shiver down her spine. In Isaac, the brunette couldn't help but see her former self, wide-eyed and completely innocent to everything in the supernatural world, believing that he'd never kill a human being or hurt another soul. But, as Grace knew well, things never really went to plan and she was sure that Isaac would find this out in being part of Derek's pack, but the girl felt it her responsibility to take care of those newly turned, make sure they knew to be careful and knew how to control themselves. Being with Derek wasn't the only thing that brought on this onslaught of the need to protect, but being without Jackson… well, she needed something to focus on, didn't she?

There was an odd feeling in her body, a sadness that spread through her flesh and muscles and settled into her bones, making sure that she knew how much she missed her ex-boyfriend in more ways than one. Being with Jackson in that way had always been electrifying, and now, Grace felt her surges of power gone, her body almost suffering from withdrawal that the smallest of kisses could cure. She needed him, but like a drug, he was addictive and she wouldn't be able to do what she'd vowed to do the day she'd broken up with him – protect him and the others around her. Being with her was dangerous for any mortal, and Grace was slowly beginning to accept that. There was nothing she could do, nothing that he could say, that could bring her back, because after all, she was doing this for his safety… to make sure he stayed alive and found someone who deserved him.

Scott blinked at her nervously, expecting her to blow up at him. Instead, Grace drew in a long breath through her nose and closed her eyes, the following sigh deep and prolonged. "He's innocent," she stated, and Scott rose an eyebrow.

"How do you know?" the boy asked, confused.

Grace licked her lips, opening her eyes. "I just know that he didn't do that to his father… he's got that innocent look in his eye, the same one that you have. The one that I wish I still had."

Scott had no idea what she was talking about, but the brunette's voice was low and almost sad-sounding, so instead, he shuffled over to the girl and pulled her into a tight, long-overdue hug. He knew how much she was hurting and he wanted to be there, really, but he had so much on her plate it was driving him insane, and Scott had never been the brightest crayon in the box – he had a hard time balancing everything and it made him want to scream, how little he could handle at a time, when both Stiles and Grace were working their asses off as much as they possibly could.

And really, Scott admired Grace's decision, because deep down he knew he'd never be able to leave Allison to protect her.

Swallowing, he allowed his hand to tangle in his friend's hair, holding her close as she buried into his chest and clutched at the front of his jacket, liking the comfort Scott offered her. It wasn't all they needed, but it was a damn good road to getting back the friendship they once had, and that was what Grace needed right now – friends she couldn't get killed; friends that she wouldn't be able to damage emotionally and physically, friends that would stop her fading away into the darkness of the forest completely to never come back – because that was what she wanted to do. A part of her had been stolen, and Grace wondered if she'd ever get that part back.

* * *

Jackson didn't _feel_ any different.

He stared at the mirror, his refection somewhat pale, shrunken eyes looking back at him. The bite – it was supposed to change him, supposed to make him _good _enough, but so far there was nothing. He leaned over, examining himself in the mirror and wincing at his cracked skin, dry lips and lifeless eyes. Behind him, he could see his calendar and in red marker, the date of the next full moon was circled _for tonight_ as he anticipated the night's events, wondering what would happen. He needed this; he needed to know that Lydia hadn't messed up his chances with Grace once again.

After his confrontation with Lydia this morning and snapping at her, stating that they weren't getting back together, Jackson wasn't sure why he'd been so harsh on her. He didn't want to feel this guilt that was pent up inside him – first Lydia almost dying, which he oddly felt responsible for despite the fact that it had been Grace who had found her and carried her back only to spend the rest of her night murdering crazy people. Now, there was something about Isaac being a target for hunter's that made him feel bad, too. Could he had prevented this but telling someone of Isaac's abuse?

Swallowing, he turned around, jumping slightly when he saw her and widening his eyes. Grace stood just beside his now open window, somewhat awkward in her stance, and Jackson was thankful the bite from Derek had at least healed even if nothing had changed in him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, genuinely curious. Since he'd snuck into her bedroom, the two hadn't really talked, and he knew that Grace was completely stressed out. Despite her supernatural DNA, she too looked tired and just generally sad. The girl pretended that she hadn't taken a moment to admire Jackson's bare chest and torso, instead clearing her throat and crossing her arms over her chest as she struggled to keep eye contact with him. God, that body had always driven her absolutely insane.

"I just thought I'd say hi," she said, giving a nod of her head. "And our project is due next week." She was referring to their media assignment, the one that had almost been forgotten in last month's insane events though they'd managed to complete it to Grace's standard, which was unbelievably high for a high-school media student. It was something that Jackson expected from a professional, not someone in Beacon Hills. "Did you know that Isaac lived across the road there?" she asked him, furrowing her eyebrows gently.

Jackson's stomach dropped. "Why do you care?" he asked, confused and slightly irritated that she'd brought up another male. She blinked.

"Because I need to know what happened in that house. Did you ever hear Mr Lahey abusing Isaac, Jackson?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders, nonchalant. Though he'd felt guilty about it, he'd never really thought it his business – he wasn't meant to meddle where he wasn't wanted. "I guess I heard stuff sometimes."

Grace's expression fell and she buried her face in her hands before her fingers tore through her hair and she let out a loud groan. She was still so sure – so sure that Isaac hadn't murdered his own father. He wouldn't turn out like her; Grace wouldn't let that happen – not now, not ever. She was like the mother of the pack now and it was her responsibility! Letting him down, seeing the light go out from his eyes, would almost be her worst failure yet. "His father was murdered and it was pretty gruesome," the girl eventually said, and Jackson blinked.

"Is he part of the pack?" he asked, and she nodded reluctantly, which made Jackson angry. If Isaac Lahey could be a werewolf, why couldn't he?

"I should go," Grace said after a moment, and Jackson pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed through his nose.

"Yeah, you do that."

* * *

Derek Hale sped through the streets, Grace in the passenger seat beside him as she twiddled her thumb. Scott had finally been released from detention for throwing paper at Mr Harris, which she had to admit was funny, and now, they needed to pick up the stubborn omega and devise a plan to actually stop Isaac from being killed. Roman had been invited along but, as love-struck as ever, had rejected the demand for Danny's company instead. As they pulled up and stopped with a jar and a skid, Scott turned and blinked at the two of them. "Get in," Derek ordered, and Scott snorted.

"Are you kidding me?" he demanded, ever sassy toward the alpha. "You did that, that's your fault." With his final words, he pointed toward the police car speeding away, Mr Stilinski having just finished interviewing the principal about Isaac despite how late it was getting. Derek sighed, pressing his lips together and glancing down, which made Grace feel horrible for him.

"He knows," she said softly, and he appreciated the fact that she answered for him. Scott rolled his eyes.

"Now get in the car, and help me," Derek ordered, and Scott shook his head, flailing his arms as he walked down the stairs.

"No, I have a better idea – I'm gonna call a lawyer! Because a lawyer might actually have a chance at getting him out before the moon goes up."

"Not when they do a real search of the house, Scott," Grace interrupted. She'd gone over there after seeing Jackson and found horrid items – a torture chamber, complete with chains and instruments designed to make one suffer… she swallowed, shaking her head. "Whatever Jackson said to the police, it was enough to allow them to apply for a warrant. There was a torture chamber, Scott…"

He stood there, considering his options as Grace leaned over and opened her door, leaving Scott with no choice. Her expression was enough to thank him, her eyes filled with gratitude as he glanced at her from the back seat, unsure but trusting her fully.

* * *

"If Isaac didn't kill his father, then who did?" Scott asked, shining the torch through the dark house as he walked, slow. "And how do you know he's not lying?"

"Because I trust Grace's – and my – senses. She's so sure that he's not lying in saying that he didn't kill his father. I think she's right."

Grace had retreated to the Hale house for the night, still on edge about being out on the full moon nights of the month. Though she rarely ended up leaving Derek's, she still worried for people's safety and needed to make sure she wouldn't end up hurting anyone. Now, it was just Scott and Derek. Scott pressed his lips together, slightly unconvinced though he said nothing more on the matter, instead changing the subject to something he'd been very curious about. "What's going on with you and Grace, anyway?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows but making no eye contact with the alpha. Derek blinked away his surprise at the question, hesitating.

"We're… dating," he said, a nod finalizing his statement. Scott turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Dating, huh?" he asked, and Derek just gave him a look that told him not to push it any further. Naturally, Scott didn't listen. "Because last I checked, she was head over heels in love with Jackson," Scott stated, and Derek narrowed his eyes.

"Grace knows what she needs to do. Whittemore is… a distraction, and she knows she's bad for him. We work, we need each other." That was at least true – he and Grace did need each other, to make their perfect work, to help Jackson move on and to help those who deserved it rise above their lives and change for the better. Isaac had needed – and deserved – the bite. He was scared, alone, damaged… and now, he could die. But Derek didn't regret turning the boy, because the way he looked at Derek and Grace, it was so obvious that he respected them so much, that he knew they cared deeply for him.

"Jackson was good for her," Scott said, suddenly surprised by his own words. "He made her okay again. She hasn't been okay in a long time."

He could recall the way his friend had changed after both Jackson and her father left, the way the light seemed to leave her eyes cold before finally dissolving as she turned into a monster, said her goodbyes to her relationship and buried her tiny shred of self-worth with her father. But between that, when she'd opened herself to Jackson and Roman, it had been there again – Scott had _seen_ it, he'd admired it.

And before he knew it, the real Grace was gone again.

Scott often found himself wondering if she'd ever return.


	4. A Sinister Game We Play

**A/N: Thanks everyone for your support, and I apologise for being away! I went on a school trip to my country's capital (Canberra, Australia) for a week and I thought there was going to be wifi there. Guess not. I'm really, really sorry! Love you guys.**

**enimzajlove13: **I'm unsure if I'll send Jackson to Europe in season three - but if he does go, he won't stay long. And maybe Grace will go with him. Season three planning is still in the works, especially now that Jackson isn't even in the show. :(

**Kat7CA: **Thanks for your review! I want Grace to have a sibling-like relationship with the other betas, I think it's important for Grace and Derek to have that, even though their relationship isn't based on romantic feelings.

**Molly-Dice: **Thank you for reviewing!

**flyhighturtle: **Aw, thank you so much! Peter is_ smoking _in the 3rd season, oh my. I haven't seen any of Erica yet but omg Isaac Lahey, I do love that boy.

**Guest reviewer: **Thanks so much darling! Aw, of course my babies will be together in the end.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

**A SINISTER GAME WE PLAY**

* * *

Nothing happened.

The footage made Jackson angry, incredibly so, and he sent the camera flying with a frustrated howl as his hands shook with rage, breath coming slightly laboured. How could this have happened? He had taken the bite - he had anticipated his change for the past week, running his fingertips over the smooth skin where the furious looking bite had once been, allowing himself the simple pleasure of conversing with Grace because soon, it wouldn't hurt so much and he'd be able to be with her again. It was what he deserved - hell, it was what they both deserved. They needed each other and there were millions of stupid metaphors Jackson could have thought up (like she was the peanut butter to his jelly or the cookies to his cream) but he shook them way.

Their relationship wasn't like that – his with Lydia had been like that, but Grace was something else. She was so different in the way that made Jackson cringe because of the slight cliché they were, but she changed him, and he'd never forget that. Their romance was easy and came so naturally that it was hard to believe they'd only really been together a few months before it all ended and Jackson had really enjoyed the quiet, careful serenity that came with being with Grace in both the physical and mental aspects. She cleared his mind, kept him good, while he kept her sane and gave her a reason to exercise her control.

So naturally, he still couldn't understand why she'd thrown it away.

Jackson had pretty much given up asking himself that question, knowing now that it was likely he'd never get the answer. Knowing Grace, she'd thought so far into something silly and created some ridiculous scenario in her head and done what she had out of the slim possibility that the craziness in her mind would happen. Only now, Grace didn't really have anyone to reassure her that she and the people she loved would be okay.

After offhandedly answering his mother's questions about what that thump had been (the camera hitting his carpeted flooring), Jackson stood and gave a huge sigh, letting his head fall into his hands before he raked his slender fingers through his hair. God, he felt like he was being over-sentimental now and he'd once vowed that he'd never be this kind of person. Lydia had assured him that he'd never want to actually sing or cuddle or remember little details about someone like Grace, because Grace had _never_ been important… or so he'd always told himself.

Now it was Jackson who wasn't important – or Grace telling herself that – and he was unable to distinguish how he felt about it. The emotions engulfing him were too much and now, he was a failure at even catching a disease.

* * *

Grace stood in the throng of students in her Phys. Ed class, wrinkling her nose at her tiny shorts and tugging them down a fraction though it didn't help much. It wasn't that she was overly self-conscious of herself – hell, the girl practically never wore pants unless in public, but since her werewolf bite her legs had been littered with tiny little scars that stood out, the white flicks contrasting drastically against her bronzing legs. She wondered what had happened to her once pale skin and blamed it on all the time she'd been spending outside.

They were all crowded around in the gym before a rock-climbing wall that towered over them and made Grace wrinkle her nose because she'd never been a fan of heights. Of course, there were the safety harnesses and the foam mats beneath and even if she did fall, there was no way she'd be seriously injured with her wolf-y powers, but she still felt uneasy. Scuffing her feet on the ground, she leaned toward the person beside her and sighed, not taking her eyes off the seemingly huge wall. "I hate rock climbing." When she didn't receive a response, Grace turned and raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with a confused Erica Reyes.

The blonde was pale and tired-looking, her hair a bird's-nest mess that made Grace feel oddly guilty for her. Of course, the brunette knew of Erica's condition and it broke her heart, because Erica honestly didn't deserve it. "Not a fan either?" Grace asked, an attempt to make conversation. Erica blinked and shook her head.

"Not really," she said, glancing up at Allison and Scott who were so obviously flirting above them that Grace had to snort in distaste – or was that jealousy that her flirting was with Derek now? She swallowed.

"It's okay, the pads are there. And the harness."

At that moment, Grace looked up and smirked as Allison's foot connected with Scott's, sending him off the wall and down toward the ground where he hovered over the mat for a split second before crashing into the foam, eyes wide with fear. Grace had to laugh as Finstock cackled at the boy's expression, uttering something about Scott's pain giving him a certain joy before calling out for Stiles and, wouldn't you know it, Erica to climb the wall together. Grace watched with a certain worry in her veins, eyes trained on Erica.

It didn't take long for the girl to start freaking out – Grace could oddly enough feel the tension radiating from the blonde's body and pushed forward between Lydia and Finstock, eyes wide as Erica's whimpers became more desperate, louder than before. "Is it vertigo?" the coach asked, and Lydia gave him a look which screamed 'you're an idiot' before rolling her eyes.

"Vertigo is an ear disease," Grace said, shaking her head, voice wavering slightly. She wasn't sure why, but she felt a strong want to protect Erica and make sure she was okay. Stiles had since lowered himself down and was standing at the base, unsure of what to say. "Come on, Erica," Grace urged.

"She's just freaking out," Lydia commented offhandedly. Grace turned to glare at the strawberry blonde girl, shaking her head.

"You know she has epilepsy, we need to get her down," Grace told Finstock, and the man blinking his eyes.

"Why does nobody tell me this stuff?" he asked as he looked up, panic setting in. "You're fine, Erica. Just kick off from the wall, there's a mat."

With hesitation and deliberate moves, Erica lowered herself down, her breathing ragged and laboured. From a few steps away, Jackson watched as Grace consoled her and snapped at the students that found Erica's episode funny, glaring at them with a hostility he'd only seen once – a hostility that only appeared when Grace was so angry she could turn. As Erica was led away, the boy made his way over to Grace, grabbing her arm gently and spinning her around. She opened her mouth to yell at whoever it was, but stopped mid-gasp and just blinked before pressing her lips into a thin line. "What?"

"Just breathe," Jackson ordered, and a surprised expression crossed her face. He studied her for a moment, her cheeks rosy with anger and her brown eyes glowing ever so slightly as though the gold would push through at any moment. "Don't let them anger you, Grace, come on. They're idiots."

"Did you see the way they taunted her?" Grace demanded, her voice rising. A few people stared, frowning in confusion as to why Grace even cared. "They're horrible! That's not okay, Jackson." Her last words faded into such a quiet tone, Jackson almost missed them. He swallowed.

"I know, Grace, it's not fair. But getting angry and changing won't make it better, okay?" he asked, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. She felt a lump rise in her throat.

"She doesn't deserve that," the brunette said again, a silence falling over the two before she turned and walked away toward the female changing rooms, unsure about why she was even so angry. She hated seeing anyone get treated like that, whether it be Erica or another complete stranger, and there was something that Erica shared with both Grace and Isaac – she was lonely and had suffered abuse for years and years; abuse from her condition, abuse from people who didn't understand that it wasn't funny. Grace knew what it was like to lose control of your own body, have your limbs take action though she tried so hard to stop it.

It hurt, and she knew that just as much as Erica Reyes did.

The brunette sighed and peeled her shirt off, standing in her sports bra for a moment before glancing around, a feeling of doubt overcoming her. Something was wrong – someone was missing. She sniffed, no unfamiliar smells inhibiting her but something lacking from the girl's rooms. There was the usual overwhelming scent of Lydia's perfume, the clean-smelling Phys. Ed clothing that reeked heavily of various washing-machine liquids, but there was one scent missing… "Erica," Grace breathed, dropping her shirt and rushing out of the change rooms.

As odd as Grace thought the fact that she knew this was, Erica had a distinct smell. She smelt of sickness and, strikingly so, sadness… "Erica!" Grace called, running full-pelt toward the rock climbing wall where, sure enough, the blonde was clutching the rocks tightly and panting heavily as her body shook. As she fell from the wall, Grace ran forward and caught her, Allison demanding that the blonde be moved to her side. Foam ran from the corners of Erica's mouth as her body convulsed, her hand clutching tightly to Grace's, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu overcoming the brunette.

Yes, Grace definitely knew why Erica Reyes needed the bite.

* * *

"I think Derek should turn Erica."

Isaac was caught off-guard by the voice of Grace, the silence deteriorating as he glanced up in confusion at the girl, his eyebrows furrowed and his expression a picture of utter shock.

The two were sitting side-by-side on the large rock that sat over the surface of the lake, their bare feet skimming the water as the spring sun warmed them to their bones. They were quite content out here, sitting with blocks of chocolate and bottles of soda, enjoying each other's company. Isaac had adopted Grace as a sisterly figure since joining the pack and for this, Grace was glad, because she'd always been the younger sibling and Isaac really did need someone a tad softer than Derek, who was a complete hard-ass in training and in most situations that called for a caring shoulder to cry on.

"You didn't see her today," Grace said softly, glancing away. "She freaked out on the rock climbing wall and everyone laughed, then she seized. People were poking fun at her because she was foaming and… we know better than anyone what it's like to lose control of our own bodies." Isaac considered her words, licking his lips. For the better part, he was happy he'd chosen the bite and though his father had died, he was quite happy out in the Hale house with Derek and Grace, though being on the run from the Beacon Hills PD wasn't glamorous at all. "I just think she needs us."

"The bite would cure her epilepsy, wouldn't it?" Isaac asked, and Grace blinked.

"It would, I think."

"Then that's good," the boy said, nodding his head and reaching for some chocolate. He had a look of consideration on his face as he chewed, staring into space for a moment. "We'll tell him," he added after a while, turning to Grace. It sounded more like a promise than anything else and for this, Grace was thankful, because if she had been in that blonde's shoes, she'd do anything to not feel so helpless.

"I wish I was there today," Isaac said, voice turning suddenly dark. "I'd have showed them all that it's not fair."

"You're supposed to be running from the police," Grace pointed out through a mouthful of sweets, her tone light and amused. Isaac rolled his eyes as though this was only a minor setback in his apparent plan to make sure everyone knew not to laugh at something like that. A small smile tugged at the boy's lips and Grace smiled slyly. "I think someone's hungry for justice. _Hungry like the wolf_," she added, and Isaac snorted.

"That's such a dad joke," the boy teased, and Grace rose a hand to her chest and have him a wounded look.

"Straddle the line in discord and rhyme, I'm on the hunt I'm after you!" she sung, suddenly jumping up, her features phasing to her wolf features. She was glad she could control her changing for the better part now and grinned at the boy through her fangs. "Mouth is alive with juices like wine, and I'm hungry like the wolf!"

Isaac rolled his eyes at the female wolf but his grin deceived him and Grace laughed, allowing her features to mould back to their normal look, giving Isaac a wave with her clawed hands as the long nails disappeared to their usual length. "Did you like my singing?" she asked, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

"You're terrible," he teased, shoving more chocolate in his mouth and washing it down with a swig of cola. "My dead grandmother can sing better than that."

Grace snorted, plopping down next to him and shaking her head in distaste for the boy's petty insults. She liked spending time with Isaac – he was a nice, real break from Derek's constant worrying or the desperate tension that was exchanged every time Grace talked to Jackson. Allison was odd company these days since her and Scott's relationship became a secret, and if Stiles hadn't been obsessed with pleasing Lydia now, he certainly was, and Lydia loved that attention. It seemed that, despite everything, her friends were all continuing with their own lives.

Grace was not moving forward at all, and it terrified her.

* * *

Of course, Derek agreed to offering Erica the bite – but on one condition: that Grace tag along and let her know about _everything_ the bite had to offer and that the brunette be not a sidekick to the alpha, but something of a mentor to the betas. She wanted to help, not be the helped. And if Grace was offering the name of a potential wolf instead of scolding Derek for turning one, then how could he resist that opportunity? This was someone who needed the bite more than anything and he was willing to both help this girl and build his pack at the same time. They needed each other.

Roman was mostly AWOL these days, not often seeing the pack though he claimed to be part of it. Grace knew her brother wasn't exactly into the whole pack dynamic and he had hated being a part of Peter's pack with his father, but being an omega terrified the boy, so he stayed by Danny's side as often as he could and pretended that he wasn't scared, that he could face the dangers That were sure to come with living beside a family of hunters. But at least, like Scott, Roman wasn't dating one.

Grace and Derek made their way through the hospital with ease, Grace knowing her way around thanks to the amount of times she'd been admitted into the place or had a friend here. She recalled her days beside Lydia's hospital cot, talking and laughing with an ease that had since disappeared since Lydia had returned from her days alone in the woods. Grace wondered if perhaps it was the fact that now, the blonde was expected to keep up her bad-bitch persona and fraternize as little as possible with the losers, especially in the friendly tone she'd used in the hospital with Grace. Silence between them, the wolves turned down a corridor and entered a dark room, where Erica was lying on her cot with her eyes closed, a small sigh escaping her lips. She almost looked beautiful, but the heavy bags around her eyes and paled skin deceived her and Grace felt sad, because if not for her condition, Erica could be so much more.

And she guessed that the blonde girl would be.

Grace wasn't sure when she'd started going for the bite instead of against it. Perhaps it was seeing how much it changed Isaac for the better that opened her eyes, because for that boy, a door to a whole new realm of possibilities had been opened and perhaps he'd find love in Erica since both were such lost souls. Or perhaps, he'd remain the faithful beta beside Derek, always placing his authority first over any potential loves. Furrowing her eyebrows, Grace followed Derek as he wheeled the softly sleeping girl down the hall and into a place far more secluded than before – the morgue – and closing and locking the door behind him as Erica woke, eyes wide with fear. Derek glanced down at the paper in his hand, raising his eyebrows. "Side effects include anxiety, weight gain, acne…" he trailed off, making a sound of distaste.

"Who are you?" Erica asked shakily, fearful. The alpha glanced back at Grace.

"Let's just say we have a mutual friend," he said, nodding as he stepped toward the blonde, hands on either side of her waist as she sat on the edge of her bed. "You get a warning right before you have a seizure, don't you?" he asked, and the blonde nodded weakly. Grace crossed her arms over her chest and stepped forward, studying Erica's behaviour. She didn't seem as scared now, as though Grace's very presence was enough to calm her.

"It's called an aura," Erica answered, nodding her head. "It's like a tar taste in my mouth." Grace's eyes narrowed as the male's slender fingers brushed the skin of the other girl's leg and Derek must have sensed as much, because he withdrew slightly, eyes still locked on Erica.

"You don't need to lie, Erica," Grace said softly. "What does it really taste like?"

The blonde looked as though she wanted to protest against answering, but instead, she tore her eyes away from Grace's familiar face and looked down. "It tastes like blood."

"What if I told you it could all go away?" Derek asked, narrowing his eyes at the girl. Grace watched him closely, knowing that if he led her to believe they had a possibility together, their whole scam would blow up in their faces. Or was it because she'd grown wonderfully accustomed to touching Derek instead of Jackson and focused on the similarities between the two instead of how much she missed her ex-boyfriend? They were both so driven, so controlling, yet veiled a beautifully compassionate side beneath their hard exteriors that Grace couldn't help but love.

The alpha pulled the girl forward, his faces inches from hers. "What if I told you that not only would it all go away, but everything would become better?" he asked, and Erica looked like she'd take the bait. Grace couldn't blame her – a handsome man saunters in and tells her that she could be cured? Derek was highly persuasive when he wanted to be. When she asked how, Derek's eyes turned a bright red and Grace swallowed.

"Derek, wait," she ordered, and the man turned, furrowing his eyebrows as Grace walked over, gently moving the male and taking one of Erica's hands, holding it in both of her own.

"You need to know, Erica, that we are not fully human. There are people who hunt us for a living, who want to kill us. For the first few months you're going to be uncontrollably dangerous, you might hurt someone. With the good comes the bad, Erica, please take that into consideration before you accept what Derek has to offer."

Erica looked up at Grace, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She had so many questions but something told her they had little time, and she wasn't about to remain the victim. She wanted what they had – whatever it was – and she couldn't stand not having it now that she knew it was possible. "What are you?" Erica asked, the need to know arising. Grace looked down at their hands for a moment, her fangs growing long before she looked back up, eyes flashing golden.

"We're werewolves," the brunette stated, her voice hollow as though she hated the statement. Erica swallowed the thick lump in her throat and nodded.

"I want it," she choked out, and Grace squeezed her hand tightly and gave a nod.

"Then welcome to the pack," she whispered, her voice thick.

* * *

The next day at school was painfully slow and Grace found herself sighing as she exited her biography class, the feeling of exhaustion washing over her body. She clutched her bag strap and started toward her locker, her head pounding in sync with the clicking of her stupid studded wedge heels. She felt dead and, at this moment, she was kind of wishing she was. Not only was keeping up in bio and her various other subjects becoming a struggle for her, but Mr Roberts was becoming increasingly creepy and Grace had even spotted him in the halls, staring with narrowed eyes and a funny expression which scared her – but she had other things on her mind that were prioritised above a freaky stalker.

As she rubbed her temples, a familiar, angered sounded voice caught her attention and she looked up, frowning as she tried to pinpoint where the voices were coming from. As she rounded the corner, Grace saw Jackson, his expression furious as Lydia backed into a wall, terrified. "You ruined it for me!" he screamed, and she blinked back tears. As he turned to walk, the boy looked at her, adding another aggressive "You ruin everything!" before turning to look away, leaving Lydia speechless and holding onto her books so tightly her knuckles whitened. Both worried and curious, Grace followed Jackson into the locker rooms, biting her lip harshly. As he peeled his shirt off, she noticed how much more toned his back was, now delicately the muscles moved as he threw his shirt away, a few tiny scars speckled over the skin from intricate moments with Grace. She swallowed and cleared her throat, causing Jackson to spin around. "Grace?"

"What was that about?" the brunette asked, not bothering with formalities. "Why were you just screaming at Lydia?"

Jackson deflated slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why do you care?"

"Because I care about _you_," Grace said softly, her expression sad as her eyes widened. In that moment, he swore he saw an old part of her, the part that was weak but so compassionate, and the part that would do anything for someone she cared about – someone she loved. He swallowed and looked guilty.

"She ruined it for me," he whispered after a prolonged moment of silence, tearing his eyes away from her. "I need you, and she ruined it for me."

"How?" Grace asked, stepping forward. Her voice was shaky, soft and sad and she wanted nothing more than to embrace him and kiss his wounds better, but she couldn't.

"She's immune," Jackson replied without thinking, his voice breaking at the end of his sentence. Grace took a moment to let his statement sink in, staring at him with wide eyes as the puzzle pieced itself together – it was why he had wanted the camera on the night of the full moon, why she'd walked in on him examining his side in the mirror… why hadn't Derek told her? She reached up to cover her mouth with her hand, tears in her eyes.

"You took the bite," she choked, words thick. No, this wasn't what was supposed to happen! Jackson had so much potential as a person – a good life, a loving home and a stunning look to him. He could go places – he would go places – and Grace couldn't stand the thought of wolfing out stopping him. "Oh, Jackson," she moaned, unsure of what to say. Being a wolf was for the scared, for the weak, for those who had nothing else left in their lives but empty homes and empty hearts. "Please, tell me I'm wrong," she begged, stepping back from him. He stared at her, eyes pleading.

"Grace, please," he tried, reaching out. At that moment, Grace Hart's whole world crumbled – the 'I-don't-love-him' persona disappeared and she just about launched herself at him, needing something to keep her sane as she folded into his arms and clutched him closely. Her breathing was heavy, her tears were unstoppable. "Don't cry," he pleaded with her, and it only made her sadder. She'd ruined him – someone so perfect. Now, all he wanted was to be a monster. And for what? For her.

She was nothing, and the sooner Jackson realised that, the better off they'd all be.


	5. We've Got Unfinished Business

**A/N: OMG, how good was this week's episode of Teen Wolf? No spoilers here in case some of y'all haven't seen it but hOLEY MOLEY THAT WAS A GOOD EPISODE OK I'M FREAKING OUT. Sorry I didn't get around to updating last night, I had work and ugh such a busy day yesterday. Never mind, here I am!**

**Molly-Dice:**I love Grace and Isaac too, they're fun to write together :p Thanks for your review!

**To lazy to login:**I know, I miss Grace and Jackson together. Writing their fluff was fun. :(

**Kat 7CA**: This girl seriously needs to think about herself for once, jeez. Thanks so much omg /endless love.

**AngelChick1432:**Thank you for your review!

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

**WE'VE GOT UNFINISHED BUSINESS**

* * *

So they were breaking into the ice-skating rink.

Well, technically, it wasn't breaking in at all, since Stiles had payed fifty-bucks for the keys from Boyd, the boy in their year who worked there. But still, Grace couldn't help but feel as though she was breaking the law by being in there despite the fact that Boyd had assured the group of six that nobody would be there. Scott and Allison giggled around each other and, funnily enough, Lydia gave Stiles just the smallest peck on the cheek as they walked in, sending a furious blush to the boy's cheeks which made Grace giggle.

And then there was Jackson.

Of course, he felt slightly out-of-place in this group. He'd never really been friends with Scott or Stilinski and he and Grace weren't back together, but it was nice, being able to spend time with the five of them and kind of let go, even if he did think that Scott was a complete dork and Stiles was a weirdo. He got to spend time with Grace, and that was what he wanted. For the sake of having a real friend at the ice rink, he'd invited Danny along, who had kindly rejected the invite so that he could 'study', which Jackson was sure meant something to do with Roman, Grace's brother. Everybody knew they were a semi-item these days, even people from other schools.

Grace tied the thin laces to her ice-skates, Jackson fumbling with his coat beside her. She could hear Lydia's conversation with Stiles and was highly amused, snickering as her company shot her a confused look. "But, you know, sometimes there's other things that you don't think would turn out to be a good combination end up... turn out to be a perfect combination. Like two people that might not look like a good combination..."

"I can see that," Lydia said, and a curious look crossed Grace's face, but she didn't turn around, instead tying the other shoe's laces with a sly smile. "They're cute together," Lydia finished, pointing down to Grace and Jackson. A heated blush covered Grace's freckled cheeks and she cleared her throat, standing from her seat and turning to Jackson, who was only now tugging on his shoes.

"See you on the ice," she said, running her hand through her hair and wrinkling her nose. She wanted to sit with him and talk, just the two of them, but it seemed privacy was hard to come by these days and although knew she shouldn't, every inch of her wanted him back. She pressed her lips together and went out onto the ice rink; narrowly avoiding Scott's flailing hands and wincing as he fell. Allison covered her mouth, skating away to leave Grace standing alone. She blinked, sighed, and did a small turn on the spot as she waited for Stiles, Lydia or Jackson, her hands extended as she pirouetted on the ice. It had been years since she had professionally ice-skated and though Lydia was now moving onto the ice, sure to upstage Grace, the brunette finally felt as though she could be in her own little word.

She went through a routine from when she'd done the _Nutcracker_ in her first year, spinning and ducking low as though she was a ballet dancer. In a way, she was. She moved about the ice with a strange finesse that she'd never had before the bite and was glad that the stupid werewolf gene had helped with something – her stature, clumsiness and overall physique had improved greatly. She spun, jumped and danced over the ice while Lydia joined in though the strawberry blonde's act was more solo and far more experienced. Lydia breezed through the air with the confidence that she'd always had, while Grace was still getting used to not stacking it every two minutes.

Jackson watched from the side of the ice with awe, his mouth slightly open and his eyebrow furrowed as he stood beside Stiles, who had the same expression on his face before he snapped out of it. He blinked wildly, smirking as he reached over to push Jackson's mouth closed. The jock scowled at him, but Stiles suspected that the nasty expression was only half-hearted – and he could have sworn the corners of Jackson's mouth were turned up slightly as he fought a smile of his own.

She just kept getting better and better, and he still couldn't have her.

Jackson skated over to her, watching her twirl for a moment before chuckling. She was bright red thanks to the cold, and grinning madly over at Jackson as he almost stumbled on the ice. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, and the boy shrugged his shoulders passively and shoved his hands in his pockets, playing the nonchalant but interested boy with ease.

"I just happened to skate by," he said, eyes drifting to where Allison and Scott were exiting the photo booth and staggering back onto the ice, laughing and clutching hands. "Come into the photo booth with me?" he asked Grace, and she stared at him a moment as if considering the option, though both knew she'd nod her head and smile bashfully before following Jackson down the hall into the tiny booth. She shouldn't – her mind was screaming at her, her brain pulsing madly, and she was still 'with' Derek… she was still trying to get the happy ever after that would keep everyone she loved alive and happy.

But a few photos wouldn't hurt, right?

They clambered into the booth, squishing together to both fit in the frame as Jackson slid in a few dollars, the machine lighting up. Grace laughed, posing with her tongue out for the first photo while Jackson crossed his eyes. When the photo was taken, Jackson glanced at Grace, licking his lips somewhat nervously. He wondered what she was thinking, his eyes trailing from hers down to her mouth, where her bottom lip was fastened between her teeth. The second flash went off, but neither moved, Grace suddenly realising the distance between them – or lack thereof. Their breaths mixed, butterflies tearing through their stomachs. As Jackson began to lean closer, the third flash lit up the stall, leaving them with one more photo.

The fourth flash went off just as their lips met.

They paid no mind to the photos printing from the booth, Jackson instead bringing his hand up to the brunette's cheek, the other drifting to her waist where he held her with enough force to let her know he couldn't stand her leaving again. He needed her, and he made that obvious through the heated kisses, and Grace obliged quite happily. She leant forward, his touch sending a blazing fire over her skin which she couldn't say no to. Nipping at his bottom lip, her hands tangled in his hair and held the back of his neck. God, she'd missed this, but guilt was overriding her body, fighting against the fiery feeling that Jackson gave her and telling her to pull away.

So, when Lydia's screaming sounded through the otherwise empty ice-skating rink, Grace did pull away and, without looking back at Jackson, left her heart and her stupid ice-skating shoes at the photo booth along with her self-respect.

Or, what little self-respect she still had.

* * *

Clara Hart was tired.

For years, the tiny blonde woman had been fighting and fighting against herself, trying to please all those she came across and finding that it never really made a difference. Since Alexander had packed up and left with Roman, she'd worked so hard to not appear the heartbroken ex-wife that she was and it was pitiful, really, how much she tried to cover up the fact that she missed her husband and her son. So, naturally, Grace had taken the brunt of that divorce. Who else could listen to her crying, take her abuse, and still love her as much as Grace did?

It wasn't Clara's intention, to make Grace feel inferior all the time, but the woman couldn't help it. She craved more than anything to feel that it wasn't her own fault her marriage had fallen to shambles and Grace was the only person she had left. She'd never struck her child and never would she, but Clara hadn't been the kindest of mother's when Alexander left and though she and her daughter had a relationship, it would never be a close one.

Perhaps it was the reason Grace was the way she was – selfless, cautious… she had needed to be for the years after her father and Jackson had left her with her broken mother. She needed to please others, keep them happy and have their best intentions at heart, but getting close with people who weren't Stiles and Scott was certainly a big no-no. Clara had watched her daughter closely over the time, observed how she reacted to the woman's verbal abuse or her friends being utterly blind to all of it.

Scott and Stiles had known that Grace had changed – it was, of course, obvious. Her father had left her and she had turned from a smiling, self-loving girl to someone who was cautious of her every move, and that scared of losing people that she lost herself to pleasing others. It was an odd thing and Grace had never really realised that she didn't know herself until Jackson had appeared in her life again. Her mother had stopped abusing her years ago, but still, something yearned inside of her – she _needed_ people to love her because at that time, nobody had.

And Jackson came along, the messiest, sweetest symphony that Grace had ever come across and she fell for him all over again, the perfect lonely boy that captured her heart for a second time.

Clara knew that Grace needed that boy back.

It had been weeks since she'd had a conversation with her own daughter and it worried her, because she'd been hanging out with Derek Hale and that troubled boy Isaac, being spotted less and less with Allison or Lydia, or even Scott and Stiles. Was she on the wrong path? Clara fretted, but said nothing to her own daughter about this in fear of being screamed at. The blonde ran a hand through her greying hair and glanced at her daughter from across the table, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Grace.

The brunette didn't even notice and continued to stare at her plate as she chowed on her dinner, their chewing the only sound heard. After a moment of no sound from her mother, Grace looked up and frowned deeply. "What are you staring at?" she asked, her tone slightly venomous. Clara blinked.

"What's wrong with you today?" the woman asked, and her daughter shrugged her shoulders, moving the food on her plate around with her fork. She suddenly didn't have an appetite anymore. "Grace, look at me. What the hell is going on?"

She could feel her heart beat, angry and pounding in her chest, a chorus of drums against her ribcage. "Nothing, mom!" she snapped, clutching her thigh underneath the table as her claws sprouted, a sign she would lose her cool soon enough. "Nothing is going on," she continued, her voice quieting. "Everything is fine, I promise."

"I don't think it is, Grace. Why haven't I seen Jackson around here in so long? Or even Stiles or Scott. The only person that ever comes into this house is Danny."

"Roman's with Danny, that's why he comes here."

"But what about Jackson?" Clara pressed, her blue eyes filled with concern. Grace sighed and ran her hands through her hair.

"Jackson and I aren't together anymore," she said, her irritation obvious, but Clara did not let up, instead leaning on the table and folding her hands together.

"Are you seeing Derek Hale?" the woman asked, and Grace raised a brow.

"Yes, I am," she said.

"You know he's bad news, Grace," Clara cried, though she had expected her daughter's answer to be a 'yes' and wasn't incredibly surprised. But she was worried – Derek Hale terrified her and after all the rumours that he'd murdered people, Clara wasn't sure she didn't believe them. She had a bad feeling and though most would just say 'mother's intuition', she just couldn't let it go.

"Mom, there's nothing wrong with Derek," Grace said honestly, slightly offended. As power-crazy as Derek was, this _wasn't_ just about a pack. It was about family. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, I'm going out," the brunette said suddenly, standing from the table and dumping her dishes in the sink before Clara even had time to respond. Terrified and alone, Grace grabbed her keys and walked out into the night, finding her bike and heading nowhere in particular.

* * *

She wasn't sure why, but her subconscious took her to Scott's house, and the young wolf stared nervously at the home, unsure if she should interrupt their night. There was a high chance that Scott was home alone, but even so; would he want to see her? They hadn't really been alone since Derek had started turning teenagers into werewolves and Grace wondered what he'd say to her about it, what he'd say about the fact that he now had a pack of four (or three, really, since Roman had fallen off the face of planet Derek) teenagers. Sighing, Grace turned to leave when the door opened behind her. She should have known he'd realise she was here.

"Grace?" Scott called, voice soft. He knew she was hurting and though he'd been so blind in his younger years, seeing her drastic change from happy to… whatever she was now, it was hard _not_ to notice that her smile lacked that usual spark to it. The brunette hesitated before turning around, smiling softly at her friend, who gave her his own sweet grin in return.

"Hi, Scott," she replied, unsure whether she should move forward or not. The boy raised an eyebrow at her, smirking.

"Are you coming inside or what?" he asked, and she had to give a small chuckle as she followed him into the house. "You feeling okay?" Scott questioned, turning to her as they made their way into the living room. The television was on quietly and there was no sign of Melissa. Grace furrowed her eyebrows at him, slightly confused. "I could sense it," he explained, and she nodded.

"Still getting used to that," Grace admitted, sitting on the couch. She chewed the inside of her cheek, reaching up to rub her temples.

"I'm worried about you," Scott said suddenly, sitting beside her with wide, sad eyes. He really did look like a puppy dog, Grace noticed, and made a mental note to pay him out about that at some point when she wasn't feeling like crap.

"You sound like my mother." It was meant as a joke, but there was no hint of amusement in Grace's voice and she sighed, looking over at her friend. "I kissed Jackson today. Well, we kissed each other."

"Why is that bad?" Scott asked, still unsure about why exactly Grace and Jackson broke up in the first place.

"Because I'm with Derek for one," the girl replied, raising her eyebrows. "Secondly, Jackson being with me is just dangerous. He could do better."

Scott was confused to say the least. Being one of his best friends, he'd always thought so highly of Grace. She was intelligent and funny, someone that would really listen when spoken to no matter who was doing the talking. Scott could distinctly remember a time when he, Stiles and Grace had organised to go to the theatre, which Grace had missed in favour of talking to the older woman who fed the pigeons outside the mall every day. The woman had passed away the next day, and Grace had been sad about it for weeks.

"Why did you break up with him, Grace?" Scott asked, and she looked away, guilty.

"You're the only werewolf who shouldn't be a werewolf, you know," she said, seemingly changing the subject.

"What does that mean?" he wondered, and she smiled softly.

"We're all damaged. All of us except you, Scott. That's why I broke up with Jackson."

"You broke up with him because I shouldn't be a werewolf?" the boy asked, and Grace gave a chuckle and shook her heart, bless Scott McCall's fickle mind.

"No, Scott. I broke up with Jackson because I'm too damaged for someone like him. It's why Derek and I work so well together."

"You don't even love Derek," Scott argued, and Grace shrugged her shoulders. She wondered if there was as better way to explain this to the boy, but found that being completely blunt was the only way to get through that thick skull of his and make him realise why he was special, why he was the _only_ werewolf of his kind. She liked her lips, hesitation in her voice.

"Sure I do. But I'll never love anyone like I loved Jackson."

* * *

"You turned Boyd!?"

Fear crossed Derek Hale's face as he heard the footsteps of the tiny Grace Hart enter his underground training center, where Isaac, Erica and newly turned Boyd stood, wringing their fingers and looking somewhat awkward as the teenage girl stormed in. She was furious, not only because of the fact that Boyd had been turned, but because Derek had very nearly killed Scott in the process of doing so - and not to mention Isaac and Erica being hurt in the fight, too. "Derek, look at me!" she demanded, and the alpha tried to mask his worry and turned to her, shooting her an award winning smirk. Grace snarled, a clawed hand reaching out to smack that perfectly chiseled jaw. Derek bared his fangs and gave a spine-tingling howl, eyes glowing a furious red, but Grace just glared at him, her features slowly turning back to her own. "Don't sass me!"

"What the hell is your problem?" Derek demanded, glowering at the girl. She gave him a look that told him it should have been obvious.

"Many things are my problem, Derek. For one, we had a plan regarding the new betas. You went ahead without me! Secondly, please explain why Scott is half dead in Deaton's office, please?" Grace snapped, hands on her hips. Derek rolled his eyes.

"Is there a third?" he asked sarcastically, and Grace nodded, sending a punch to his jaw.

"Yeah," she breathed. "That's for involving my newborns in that fight."

Isaac blinked, unsure of how to interpret this scene, while Erica and Boyd were quite amused with big, bad Derek getting beaten up by the tiny brunette beta. Derek raised a fist, angered with her outburst and embarrassed about being confronted before his pack, but the look on Grace's face told him that she'd tear off one of his major limbs before he took her out, and he lowered his hand and gave a snort. "We'll talk about this later," he snapped, reaching for the hem of his shirt before tugging it off, tossing it aside. Grace took a moment to observe the practically photoshopped body before leaning in, her lips against his ear to keep up their facade of 'happy werewolf couple'.

"I'm going to kick your ass later," she whispered, voice low and menacing as her claws left a meagre mark on his tanned shoulders. Though she was no alpha, she felt she had every right to be furious with her pack member. He had made a commitment to her, promised that she would be consulted if she was to be part of this pack - and no harm was to come to Scott, Stiles, Lydia or Allison... or Jackson, at the hand of anyone in this pack, though she guessed it wasn't as dire a consequence from her when said harm was accidental. Some things just couldn't be helped. She glanced at the younger betas, pursing her lips as she took in Boyd's size. He was absolutely massive and certainly would be an asset to them. The lonely, huge boy that sat alone at break times... Grace swallowed and shot him a genuine smile. "Welcome to the pack, Boyd. Try not to kill anyone here, I've grown kind of attached."

The boy gave a slight smirk of amusement, though unknowing to how serious she actually was in that warning. She opened her mouth to respond, but was caught by the text message tone of her phone buzzing and she frowned, looking down at it and seeing a text from Stiles. Night was falling now and the underground training place was growing dark, though Derek had, at some point, installed lighting that was dull and wouldn't help a human's sight at all. Derek watched Grace closely as she unlocked her phone, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

_(1) New Message_

_Stiles Stilinski_

_grace, need you to call me ASAP, im with scott, its urgent _

She almost rolled over and died at his terrible grammar, but instead clicked the green 'call' button and walked away from the pack, Derek's curious eyes following her before he returned to training, slamming each one of the betas into the ground as they came at him. As the phone rang, Grace caught Erica launching herself at Derek, kissing him hard on the lips before he pushed her off, sending her flying. The brunette, holding the phone to her ear, sent Erica a hard look, hoping she knew that was well out of place. "I'm _with_ someone," Derek snapped. "And I have someone else in mind for you."

Grace was about to snort at match-making Derek when Stiles answered his phone, voice high-pitched with panic. "Grace? We have a problem."

As he explained this new-found beast lurking around, Grace felt her heart beat quicken with worry. Stiles mentioned a lizard-like creature with some kind of paralytic toxin with it's mind focused on only killing people, which made the girl stress for her friends and pack. She chewed her bottom lip, a shiver running down her spine at Stiles's words. "I think it knew us," he said thickly, and Grace sighed, hung up the phone and turned to Derek, who was watching her with intent eyes.

"I think we have a problem."


	6. Let Me Down Easy

**A/N: Sorry about the delay, life got a bit complicated. Ugh, new semesters at school suck. I hate going through this in the middle of the year, it's so frustrating! But in good news, I got an A- in my English exam and a B in my maths exam! How cool is that? Year 11 is hard but I think I'm doing okay for someone who didn't even want to continue school. Anyway, enough about my life! I almost cried writing the scene between Grace and Derek after the Grace/Jackson scene. My emoTIONS.**

**ALSO: forgive me... but I REALLY want to start a Derek/oc story...**

**AngelChick1432: **Thanks so much for your review!

**Molly-Dice:** Don't apologise :p I love that Grace doesn't take Derek's crap, too. She's always been very headstrong.

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX:**

**LET ME DOWN EASY**

* * *

The lacrosse game that night meant that the bleachers were packed to the brim, and for some reason, especially violent. Grace had no idea why everybody was trying to kill everybody else, and she sat next to Danny as he sat on the sidelines, nursing his injured head. Roman sat on the boy's other side, a look of concern on his face as he held the ice-pack to his boyfriend's face. He'd never seen a lacrosse game as violent as this, let alone one that left Danny out on the side-lines. He was deeply concerned, especially when coach Finstock practically ordered Danny back onto the field much to Roman's dismay. He sighed heavily, running his hands through his curled hair and down his face. "I hope he's okay," he mumbled, more-so to himself.

"We need another player!" Finstock was shouting as Danny made his way onto the pitch, unable to walk in a straight line though he held his lacrosse stick firmly and managed to stay upright as he glanced back at Roman, slightly worried. Grace turned just in time to see Boyd pass her, and she reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him close. He blinked at her, narrowing his eyes.

"You know that's not a good idea," the brunette snapped, and Boyd gave the same smirk that Erica had received just moments ago, pleased with himself. "You might hurt somebody," Grace pressed, but he shrugged and pulled away from her, full well knowing that she wouldn't dare make a scene right here. He stalked out onto the field and, within a minute of his playing time, the boy had knocked out the other team's best defence player. Grace glanced up at the night sky, worried about the almost full, fat-bellied moon hanging overhead before Erica dragging Stiles across the courtyard behind the bleachers to the pool building.

"Roman, keep an eye on Boyd," the brunette muttered, narrowing her eyebrows as she began to jog over. The scent of chlorine hit her nose and she bit her lip hard, sneaking in after Erica and Stiles, eyes locking on Derek standing there with a football. He tossed it between both hands, and Grace pretended not to notice that he looked quite nice in the tight, gray t-shirt he was wearing. She also ignored the fact that it reminded her of the shirt she still had that had once belonged to Jackson. Grace narrowed her eyes as Erica sauntered over to stand beside Derek, a triumphant smirk on her pretty little face. She stepped further into the pool room, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked in, Derek setting his jaw at the sight of her.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, and the girl gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Just joining in on the interrogation of my best friend," Grace said, her heels clicking on the ground as she walked. Derek had never heard a more threatening noise in his life and he frowned deeply, glancing at Stiles, who was looking on at the scene with wide eyes.

"Stiles," Derek started, ignoring Grace as she stood beside the teenage boy, concern on her features. "What did you see at the garage?"

"Uh, several alarming EPA violations that I'm seriously considering reporting," Stiles replied, slightly more confident now that Grace was beside him. Derek narrowed his eyes and flashed his claws, digging them straight into the basketball, his large hands flattening the thing in seconds while Stiles shifted uncomfortably. "Holy hell," he moaned, distraught. Grace rolled her eyes.

Derek Hale and his dramatics.

"I-It was pretty slick looking... uh, its skin was dark, kind of patterned. I think I saw scales. Is that enough? Because I actually have someone else I really need to talk to!"

Grace raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as Stiles sighed and continued. "Alright, fine. Eyes... Its eyes were yellowish, and slitted. It has a lot of teeth... oh! And it has a tail, too. Are we good now?" As he spoke, Grace's eyes remained trained on Derek, who was suddenly not looking at Stiles anymore. Erica looked paralysed with fear, and Stiles rolled his eyes and demanded to know why they looked like two deer caught in headlights. Grace turned, looking up as her eyes widened at the sight of the creature perched on the balcony above their heads.

Before Grace could say anything, the creature leapt down and shoved Erica out of the way, sending her flying a few feet into the air, giving a grunt as she hit the wall without any further movement. Its tail whipped around and caught the back of Derek's neck just as he walked a few feet. Stiles froze, staring at the alpha. "D-Derek, your neck," he stammered, and the alpha reached up, feeling the cut on the back of his neck and glancing at the boy, who immediately launched forward to catch the falling man. They only made it a few feet toward the door before Derek lost all movement, toppling into the pool. "Grace?" Stiles called, looking between his phone and Derek, who was drifting to the bottom of the pool.

The brunette was pinned against the wall, slowly losing feeling in her hands and feet try as she may to keep her blood flowing quickly. The scaly, lizard-like creature was crouched on all fours before her, a forked tongue darting out, reminding Grace of the time that she'd read about snakes doing the same thing to taste the air. She swallowed, a small groan escaping her lips as she slid down the wall, her head smacking the tiles, causing her vision to blur for a moment. The creature moved closer, its eyes staring into hers as though it recognized the girl and wanted her to recognize it, too.

And then she did.

She was overwhelmed with a sudden sense of déjà vu, and she knew she'd seen that look before. The lizard's eyes were helpless, filled with fear for just a split second before whatever was controlling its animalistic desires took over again, and a flash of an image crossed Grace's mind. She'd seen that same look when she'd wolfed out and struck Jackson and she'd never forget that for as long as she lived... As the creature moved away from her and toward Stiles and Derek, who were now in the swimming pool, she wondered how Jackson could have possibly become... this. Was it even possible? Perhaps it wasn't him – maybe she was just suffering from this stupid post-breakup trauma and wanted him wherever she could have him, even in some crazy, murdering animal.

But the eyes... despite the change of colour and the slitted pupils, she could have sworn, the lizard creature had Jackson's eyes.

* * *

It was hours before Scott arrived to help the group of four, and Erica was still passed out from her bump on the head and her own taste of the paralytic venom. He pulled both Derek and Stiles from the water with force and did, what Grace thought, was an overdramatic pose and snarl on the diving platform before the lizard creature tackled him. Grace desperately wanted to help the boy fight and possibly see who was behind the scaly mask, but as Derek was shakily standing, the bottom half of her body was still paralysed and she sighed, pulling herself into a sitting position as best she could while she waited for the paralysis to wear off. Crossing her arms over her chest, Grace narrowed her eyes and watched closely as Scott flashed the creature its own reflection, causing it to admit a huge, pained sounding wail before it turned and disappeared out of the pool room, leaving a confused, now-human Scott standing in the wake of the broken mirror.

Derek stalked toward Grace, raising his eyebrows as he expected her to stand. Erica was now completely functioning, too, and Grace huffed angrily, wanting to get up and make sure everyone was okay. "Are you going to get up?" Derek asked, slightly hostile. The brunette pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

"I'm still half paralysed, dumb-ass," she snapped, and he gave a small smirk before reaching down and lifting her over her shoulder, her dead legs dangling over his chest as she sighed and didn't fight against her alpha carrying her from the pool room and out into the fresh, midnight air. "Shift me a little closer to your neck, your shoulder is digging into my freaking stomach." The alpha snorted, grabbed her ass playfully and pulled her a little closer so as to avoid her discomfort, and she was too tired to display any affection toward him. Thoughts of Jackson being that... that creature, ransacked her mind, and it was hard for her to focus on anything but the eyes of the beast.

"It's called a kanima," Derek stated, and Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes.

"So you've known the whole time?" he demanded, eyes drifting to Grace's behind, which was right beside Derek's face. The alpha glowered at him.

"No, only when it was confused by its own reflection," Derek said, and Scott blinked.

"It doesn't know who it is."

"Or what," the man said, putting Grace down. She stumbled slightly, gripping his arm for support before scowling and muttering a few curses underneath her breath. She didn't want to take part in this conversation, she felt like she _knew_ who they were talking about... but it was only a hunch, albeit a strong one. Pressing her lips together, she glanced away from the werewolves and Stiles, instead focusing on her pretty shoes, pretending not to care deeply for what was going on. "I've only heard myths, stories... rumours. It's a shape shifter, but it's not right. It's like a..."

"An abomination," Stiles finished, voice suddenly thick. Derek nodded and turned to leave, Grace unsure if she should follow or not.

"Derek, wait," Scott called, and the alpha turned, his jaw hard as he gritted his teeth. "We need to work together on this, maybe even tell the Argent's."

"You trust them!" Derek snapped, and Grace raised a hand, muttering something about the lack of civil behaviour between the two wolves, mostly on Derek's side.

"Nobody trusts anyone, that's the problem!" Scott said, his eyes narrowed as the tiny brunette beside him rolled her eyes.

"Not true," she said quietly, going unheard. So _this_ is what Stiles felt like.

"While we're here arguing about who's on what side, there's something bigger, scarier and stronger than us out there and it's killing people! We don't even know anything about it!" the omega continued, voice rising. Grace's head snapped up and she frowned deeply, sharing a concerned look with Stiles and Erica as the two werewolves seemed to scream it out.

"I know one thing," Derek snarled, turning away. "When I find it, I'm going to kill it."

* * *

Grace wasn't sure what to do. She felt lost, torn between telling Derek who the kanima was and protecting the one good person in her life. The morning sun warmed her bare shoulders, her hair in a loose bun, as she walked up Jackson's driveway and hesitated at the door. She needed to see him about the other day at the ice-skating rink, make sure that he knew that it could never happen again. She needed to fix him, make him human again, and being around him just wasn't doing that. She'd done as much research on the kanima as she could and found that it failed to turn into a wolf because of unresolved issues in its past, and she _knew _that was her fault.

She knocked a few times, hearing footsteps in the house and knowing it was Jackson before he opened the door and smiled gently at the girl before him. "Morning," he greeted before frowning at her expression, which was a mixture of disdain and hurt. "Is everything okay?"

_No, _she thought, pressing her lips together. He was shirtless, standing in the sunlight and looking as concerned as ever, and part of her just wanted to forget the kanima and be with him one last time, but she shook her head and looked at the ground, a gravely, "Can I come in?" escaping her lips as he stepped aside. She soon found herself in his living room, sitting on the couch as she wrung her hands together and adjusted her baggy tank-top, finding any and every way to occupy herself before having to talk. After about five minutes of silence, Jackson cleared his throat.

"Are you going to say anything?" he asked her, gentle. She looked up as though someone had just torn a doll from her hands and she was five-years-old.

"What happened the other day, Jackson, in the photo-booth at the ice-skating rink," she started, and a small smile crossed the boy's lips. She shook her head and he looked like a fucking kicked puppy, staring at her with wide eyes. "It meant nothing. You... you need to move on, okay? Because _I have_ moved on."

"What, with Derek?" Jackson asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I don't think so." Grace cocked an eyebrow, curious.

"Why not with Derek?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow at her as though it should have been obvious.

"He's just..." the boy couldn't find the right words. He didn't want to say 'not her type' because as much as he hated to admit it, there were certain similarities between he and Derek, and perhaps that had been what had drawn her to him for a fake boyfriend. They were both narcissistic assholes, really, but had what Grace would describe as a 'beautiful, wonderful exterior' beneath their layer of nastiness and bitterness. Both had been kicked – Derek by Kate Argent and Jackson at his own hand. Both were wounded birds, and Grace liked to kid herself that she was the little girl who found the wounded bird in the street, shoved it in a cage and fed it squashed bananas, even though the bird rarely survived.

Jackson swallowed and shook his head. "Grace, you can't be serious," he tried, and she shook her head.

"Listen to me," she urged. "I want you to move on. It's what's best for you, okay? Go back to Lydia... she loves you, and always will. Or she loves the idea of you. Either way, I'm bad news, I'm dangerous, and I'm in love with someone else."

Jackson hadn't actually ever heard her say that she was in love with Derek, and it was like being kicked in the gut. He wrinkled his nose and stood up quickly, unsure about what to say to his ex girlfriend in response. Instead, he turned away from her and raked his hands through his hair, tugging slightly to feel the pain somewhere that wasn't his chest. "Just get out, Grace, okay?" he snapped suddenly, not facing her. She swallowed thickly.

"Don't come back, either."

Those words stung more than anything else she'd ever heard.

* * *

Her chest was hollow and her head felt as though it might explode with everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She was curled up on Derek's crappy bed in the basement of the Hale house, surprisingly warm despite the cold night setting in. Where Derek and the other betas were, Grace had no idea. But she couldn't go home and see Danny and Roman and even her mother and Sheriff Stilinski, happy and laughing, when all she had was someone as damaged as her that she couldn't ever love like she loved Jackson. The brunette wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them close, burying her face in her thighs as she wailed hopelessly. She hadn't cried – really _cried –_ in months, and it was as though everything was coming to the surface and breaking free.

The girl's cheeks were bright red beneath her freckles and her eyes were swollen, a seemingly endless stream of tears falling down her face and splashing onto the covers of Derek's bed. Sobs wracked her body, convulsing her as she tried desperately to control herself but found no way to stop the tears, finding that she was unstoppable. Everything was boiling in her mind, giving her an explosive headache that made her chest feel hollow and ache dully as she cried.

This, she thought, was pathetic.

She was whimpering by the time Derek arrived back, three others trailing behind him as he walked downstairs and spotted the brunette in his bed. He blinked, and the betas looked slightly uncomfortable as Grace looked at them, not sure if she should say something. Quietly, Derek sent them out of the room and walked over to Grace, frowning for a second before climbing into the bed beside her, an arm snaking around her shoulders and pulling her close. The gesture only made her cry harder into his chest and she felt pathetic, yet found that the tears were quite relieving. "I miss him so much," she moaned, reaching up to cover her mouth, ashamed at the words that fell from her mouth. Derek remained silent for a moment before he sighed gently.

"I know, Grace," he said quietly, and she looked up at him through her puffy eyes and wiped away her tears, frowning.

"What?"

"I said I know," he repeated, a little more audibly, glancing down at her. "I know you miss him. And I'm sorry it had to come to this."

"I just couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt him again, Derek..." she whimpered, another smaller sob escaping her. All the alpha could do was hold her, understanding what it was like to lose someone that was everything. He had once loved Kate, too, and she'd thrown that back in his face and ruined him for good by burning his fucking family alive. He'd once known what it was like to love, and he'd sworn to never go back to that weakness. He just wished that Grace was capable of that, too... he couldn't stand seeing her hurt like this, despite how much he knew that they'd never love each other like that. They were family, choosing the welfare of the pack over their own emotions.

It was the way that worked for the pack.

For Grace, though, Derek wasn't sure, because he could have sworn that, sitting there holding her, he could hear her heart shattering beneath her ribcage.

* * *

The next morning, she was sitting in the crappy train room, wondering why the betas hadn't shown up for the training that Derek had ordered they come to. She stared at him, questions on her features, but found that he couldn't meet her eye. She narrowed her eyes at him, opening her mouth to say something when Boyd, Erica and Isaac sauntered in, dragging someone between the three of them. As soon as she realised it was Jackson, Grace stood and stalked over to Derek, whispering harshly, "What the hell is going on?"

The alpha ignored her and watched as Isaac and Erica held a squirming Jackson tight in their grip and she couldn't help but turn away when Jackson made eye contact with her, alarmed and scared. "What happened to you on the night of the full moon, Jackson?" Derek asked, and Jackson stopped and stood still, frowning.

"Nothing – nothing happened," he snapped, shaking his head.

"You're lying," Derek stated, slipping gloves onto his hands. Grace watched with wide eyes as Derek nodded at Boyd, and the alpha came up beside her and gripped her forearm, a slight expression of regret on his face.

"I can prove it," Jackson tried. "I recorded myself." This bought a smirk to both Derek and the beta's faces, and Isaac sneered.

"You recorded yourself?" he laughed, amused.

"Yes," Jackson snapped. "It was the full moon, and maybe while you were curled in the corner having an existential crisis about turning into werewolf, I was preparing for the so-called gift that your big, bad alpha promised me! And what did I get? Nothing! You want proof? Let me get the video."

Grace winced at his tone, but did nothing but pressed her lips together as she watched the scene unfold, mentally preparing to beat the absolute shit out of Derek as soon as she could. Derek shook his head, standing and mumbling 'no' as he walked over to Jackson with the same glass Scott had used to fend off the kanima. "You know Jackson, you've always been kind of a snake," he said smoothly. "And everyone knows a snake can't be poisoned by its own venom."

He stepped closer, letting the one drop of venom fall from the glass into Jackson's mouth. Grace bit down a yelp as he fell to the ground, paralysed. Derek sighed, slightly pissed, and leant down. "You're still a snake, Jackson. Just not the one we're looking for."

Boyd let go of Grace's arm, and she wanted to step forward and make sure that Jackson was okay, but Isaac was leaning beside him and talking in a smooth, sultry tone as though he was suddenly all high-and-mighty. When he finished talking to Jackson, the brunette stalked forward and walked straight past him, making sure to grab his ear and drag Lahey behind her as she made her way into the next room, her features shifting as she turned and gave a spine-tingling howl in his face, causing him to wince and back off. "What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his ear and remaining clear of Grace even when her wolf-features had disappeared.

"What the hell was _that_ in _there?_" she demanded, voice shrill as Erica and Boyd led Jackson away. Derek had walked into another room and Grace _would _confront him about what he'd done – especially after last night's episode. Snarling, she stepped forward and glowered at the beta. "Why didn't you tell me Derek was planning that?" she asked, voice slightly softer. Isaac's features turned from defensive to apologetic.

"Derek said that he'd told you," he mumbled, and Grace immediately felt guilty for yelling at him. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry Grace, I thought you knew," the curled boy tried, and Grace shook her head and buried her head in her hands.

"Don't worry about it, Isaac. It's not your fault, I'm sorry," she apologised, and he shook his head and stepped forward. To anyone with half a brain, it was obvious that Grace was hurting, and he felt horrible about everything that had happened to her. His life was hard, he knew that, but Grace's was more than she could handle. She had been so sure that it had been Jackson's eyes she'd been looking into, so sad and forgiving... Opening his arms, Isaac pulled the shorter girl into a hug, resting his chin on her head. "I'm sorry," she said again, only this time, Grace wasn't sure what she was apologising for.


	7. The Piece Of Me I Wish I Didn't Need

**A/N: Hey guys, and sorry for yet another delay. Did you all enjoy this week's Teen Wolf? I AM SO MIND-FUCKED THAT IT IS INSANE AND I'M HAVING SOME ISSUES COPING TO BE HONEST. In other news, I got a new laptop! One that's all mine! Saving for weeks really did pay off, because now I have a beautiful, smooth running, updated model to write on and no real excuse to not update every two or three days. I really should set a schedule.**

**Would you guys read a Derek/OC story if I posted one? I also need to update Oh, Lonely Bones but I'm finding it quite hard to get in the mood for that one. Ella is a new character of mine and since she had no connections, I find that it'll be hard to write chapters focusing on anything but Ella and Isaac.**

**Piper:** Not this story, although I really do love Grace and Derek's dynamic. It makes me happy to write them! I feel like with Grace around, he's a little... tamer, almost. She keeps the sour-wolf in check!

**He4artBreaker101:** This song is legitimately perfect. Thanks so much for letting me know! I really love it, oh my god. .

**AngelChick1432:** As always, thank you for your review! Please, smack Gracie upside the head for me? There have been so many opportunities for fluffy moments, but I've not been able to write them becAUSE OH WAIT, GRACE BROKE UP WITH HIM. /POUTING.

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN:**

**THE PIECE OF ME I WISH I DIDN'T NEED**

* * *

Grace wasn't sure what had gotten into Isaac, but as soon as she found out what would be happening in her Chemistry class later that afternoon with Mr Harris as their unobservant teacher, she was furious. Though she couldn't deny her suspicions for Lydia being the kanima, she couldn't help but feel like she knew this creature - whoever was behind the scaly mask - so much more than she knew Lydia. Her and the strawberry blonde were good friends, but never that close. And it drove her to insanity, not knowing or being able to help whoever was the lizard-like creature. Pressing her lips together, the brunette ran a hand through her ombre hair and walked as fast as possible to her class, wanting to be there in case something bad did go down.

She had trusted Isaac, and she wasn't sure why, but it kind of hurt that she hadn't been informed of these plans by any one of the pack members. There was five of them including Derek and he'd promised to keep her in the loop, instead making her feel angry and used. She'd gotten him what he wanted - his three teenage betas - and now, he didn't need her as what he'd once dubbed his "consultant." It only worsened her fragile emotional state, and she'd never forgive him for that despite how good their terms may be in just a few days time.

As the girl slipped into her class, she was dismayed to see that most the other students had arrived, including Erica and Isaac, who were seated at a table with slightly vicious looking smirks on their expressions. It didn't surprise Grace that Erica was excited... but Isaac? Well, she'd thought he'd at least look conflicted about it. The brunette made a mental note to speak to Derek about his lack of leadership when it came to making sure his wolves were just nice to people who didn't deserve a kick to the head or something.

Stiles and Isaac were partnered together once Erica had moved her slender fingers away from Scott's crotch, and Grace became increasingly worried. She tapped into their conversation, almost wincing at the sob story that Isaac fed Stiles about when he'd asked Lydia out on the first day of freshman year and she'd rejected him, telling him to come back when his bike had an engine and not a chain. Okay, so she wasn't the nicest of people to strangers, but Lydia had walls up just like everyone else. It was a matter of staying around and persisting long enough to breach those walls that everyone seemed to have a problem with, with the exception of Stiles.

"Unrequited love's a bitch," Stiles muttered sardonically, rolling his eyes. "Maybe you should write about it in English, channel all that negative energy."

From where she was sitting - Danny doing the work beside her - Grace saw Isaac shrug passively. "Nah, I was thinking I'd channel it into killing her." A steely expression crossed the girl's face and she hissed, Danny stiffening beside her, wondering what the hell her problem was. "I'm not very good at writing," Isaac added, looking at Stiles, whose eyes were bugged in disbelief.

Anger bubbled inside her at hearing Isaac say those words - he was an innocent boy, not a murderer, and she was determined to keep him that way. "Isaac Lahey," she snapped in a whisper, leaning away from Danny. Grace knew the boy had heard because despite him not turning around, he stiffened some. "If you're looking to keep your private parts, I suggest you stop with the murder talk. I have no problem with taking you to Deaton. I hear he specialises in neutering dogs. You hear me?" She received no response but Danny's confused eyes and furrowed brow.

"Did you say something?" the Hawaiian boy asked, concerned. Grace forced a smile and shook her head.

"No, it was nothing. Don't mind me," she said, the bell for the switch ringing around the room.

As the lesson progressed, Grace found that it was becoming increasingly crazy. With Erica's hand on Scott's thigh and slender fingers slowly slipping upwards, nothing much happened until Isaac was partnered with Lydia and they began to make their crystal ice, which was apparently edible. Grace prickled with anger as she saw the curly haired boy slip the venom onto a crystal that Lydia was sure to place in her mouth. How dare he do that in front of the entire class? Not to mention how stupid doing something like this in public was, how would the paramedics that were sure to be called explain Lydia getting up and walking within a few hours after a full-body paraplegic state? They wouldn't be able to. And what about the embarrassment the strawberry blonde would feel? Just a week after being found stark naked in the middle of the forest in freezing weather and a few screaming episodes, she really didn't need to completely lose control of her body again.

Unable to do anything without causing a scene, Grace looked over her shoulder at Scott and Stiles and sent them a worried look, biting her lower lip quite hard. An iron feeling overcame her mouth momentarily before the small cut healed and left her with nothing to distract her from the doom Lydia possibly faced. As the girl raised the crystal ice to her lips, Grace could hear Scott's chair scooting back as he stood and screamed, "Lydia!" which gave the class an excuse to purse their lips and wrinkle their noses at him in distaste. She shot him a steely look, opened her plump lips and placed the ice-cube on her tongue, bringing no reaction from the venom.

Grace swallowed, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

* * *

So Grace may or may not have started seeing red when her brown eyes landed on Derek Hale, standing outside with his eyes narrowed on Lydia.

And she _may_ or _may not_ have stood from her chair, marched out of the classroom and across the courtyard to scream abuse at him.

But... she definitely did land a good slap to his face before his large hands closed around her wrists and pulled her close, his dark and menacing eyes so close to hers that she had trouble breathing. So Derek Hale kind of intimidated her... this was the first time she'd shown him her fear, and this would be the last time. His nostrils flared as he glared at her and she gave him a venomous look right back, unable to control what she was feeling. It wasn't _fair_ that he was going to kill her, and Grace would not stand for it. Lydia Martin, as narcissistic and horrid as she could be, was a teenage girl who did _not_ deserve to die. She was a real person, with emotions and feelings and a good heart and friends and family who loved and cared for her.

Grace Hart would be damned to hell if she let Derek lay one stupid, clawed finger on that girl.

He had said himself that the kanima was a creature created by the undealt with issues in ones past. Lydia sure enough had her handful of her own traumatizing memories and perhaps her bite from Peter had come at the wrong time for her, but she was not fairly being punished for actions she didn't know she was doing. "It's not fair," Grace said, surprised to find tears spilling down her cheeks, which were now red. Her voice was thick and gravelly with emotion and she couldn't remember ever beginning to cry, but the past few minutes had been a blur, and Derek's grip was turning from tight to soft and she was suddenly being pulled into a slightly awkward hug. "Stop!"

Derek was slightly caught off-guard, but he let his hands fall away from the sobbing girl and frowned at her as she wiped her eyes, stepping away from him. "Stop comforting me when this is _your_ fault, Derek." Her tone was sharp and ordering despite how wavering it had been just moments ago, and Grace wasn't sure what had brought her to act in such a way. She had been emotional lately, that much was obvious, but to cry over this? She drew in a breath, her hands shaking. She knew why she was upset - if it was she who'd been turned into the kanima, she'd want a second chance. Once again, it was a matter of giving back rights to those who had had their bodies manipulated by the werewolf gene, those who needed to redeem themselves because of something that was out of their control. Grace sighed heavily.

"My fault?" Derek asked, eyebrows knitting together. "How is this my fault?"

"Because you're going to kill her!" Grace shrieked, as if it should have been obvious. He pressed his lips into a firm line.

"She's killed people, Grace."

"She doesn't know what she's doing!" the brunette argued, desperate to have her side of the story heard.

"Stiles said it himself - she's an abomination! We can't help Lydia, Grace. It's too late."

"Give me some time," the brunette pleaded, desperate. "Please, just give me some time to prove that killing her isn't the answer."

He was reluctant, but something inside of him couldn't bear to see her struggle and he sighed through his nose, irritated with his lack of self-control when a girl whom he cared for deeply began to cry. "You have until midnight," he snapped, turning away from her. Her eyes widened and she wanted to argue more, though she was grateful for the time given. Without another word, they parted ways, Grace desperate to find a solution to their problem.

* * *

Jackson sitting with Lydia at the library tables should not have been as big a kick in the gut as it was, but Grace pushed her thoughts away as the two of them shared a look, causing her to swallow down the lump in her throat at grab the book she'd been searching for. It was something to do with mythical creatures and though it wasn't much, it would have to give her something - anything - that proved whoever the kanima was, was innocent. She could feel his gaze lingering on her as she moved about the library, taking a seat next to Danny and sighing through her nose. "Stressful day?" the boy asked, and Grace gave a sarcastic snort of laughter.  
"You don't know the half of it," she muttered, flipping open the book and turning to the table of contents. Danny's eyes studied her, his eyebrows narrowed and gaze fixed on the redness in her eyes and the faded bright pink of her cheeks. She'd been crying.

"You've been crying," Danny stated, and Grace avoided his gaze for a good ten seconds before turning to him, licking her lips nervously.

"Is it easy to tell?" she asked, eyes flickering to Jackson, who was watching her intently. Danny followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"Did _he_ make you cry?" he demanded, somewhat defensive. Grace shook her head quickly, a reassuring smile on her lips.

"No, Danny, I swear... It's just been a rough couple of weeks."

The boy opened his mouth, words catching in his throat. He wanted to ask her the question that had been on Jackson's mind since she'd ended it, then kissed him, then ended it again and although he didn't spend an awful amount of time with Grace, he knew that she was being hard on herself over everything that had happened - whatever it was that had happened. Jackson had been uncharacteristically secretive with his best friend lately, and that worried him, too. "Do you miss him, Grace?" Danny asked after a moment, and the girl stared at him, unsure about whether or not to answer his question.

She took a moment of thought and pressed her lips together. Telling Danny that she missed Jackson could result badly - of course it would get back to Jackson, after all, Danny was his best friend. But could she bring herself to say 'no' to that question? She closed her mouth and looked away, suddenly overly interested in the table of contents in her supernatural book. Danny took her answer as a yes and chewed the inside of his cheek, a thousand questions running through her mind. There was so much he wanted to ask her, so many questions that were left unanswered, about both Grace and her brother Roman, who he was now officially dating after months of the boys tiptoeing around each other.

They were quite a secretive bunch, the Hart family, and since a few months ago, things around Beacon Hill's had started getting quite closed-off, too. He wondered if he was out of the loop with some big thing and wanted to ask Jackson about it, but every time he did, the boy shut him down and snapped at him for prying into his business though he'd never had a problem with it before. "Is there something I'm missing, Grace?" he asked, somewhat desperately. His eyes were wide and pleading and Grace knew the question he was really asking: _What the hell is going on in this town?_

"You should ask Roman that," Grace said with a small nod. "Tell him that I said it's okay that you tell him... you deserve to know."

* * *

Derek didn't call them off.

Grace wasn't sure how, but she _knew_. She knew that Derek had lied to her, she knew that Isaac's blood lust was at it's peak. She could feel his and Erica's pulsing in her own veins and some small part of her lusted for Lydia's blood, too, but she wouldn't let it overcome her. She stood from her chair, Danny giving her another concerned look, before stalking off out into the hall with her vision turning a pale red and her mind racing so fast she could barely keep up. She didn't know where Lydia was and she sure as hell didn't know where Isaac and Erica were headed, but she would find them, and she'd kick their asses so hard they'd be healing for a week and a half.

Her breathing was quickening at a rapid pace and, when she spotted them coming toward her in the hall, she almost phased right in the middle of the school. Isaac seemed to falter slightly at the sight of her, but Erica just smirked and continued on walking, her claws reaching out to mark the lockers as she passed. Grace squared her shoulders and bared her canines, a threatening growl escaping her lips as she wrinkled her nose. "Don't take another step or so help me-" she started, Erica suddenly launching at her. With a _thud_, she hit the lockers, and the blonde smirked.

"Don't try and stop us," she said, lifting her chin. "Derek gave us an order and we're here to carry it out. So move, or you'll be an _omega_ soon enough."

Because two omegas in Beacon Hills weren't enough. Maybe she, Scott and Roman could start a pack. Grace almost snorted at the thought as she stood, Isaac and Erica making their ways into the library. Matt had soon scampered out when Isaac threatened him, leaving a shell-shocked Danny to witness Grace's transformation as she stepped back into the otherwise empty room, her snout wrinkled, fangs protruding and eyes glowing golden. She made a show of growling deeply and walking slowly toward the two other teens, making sure they _knew_ how serious she was about hurting them.

She didn't want it to come to this, really, but there was something growing inside of her - call it killer instinct. Protective instinct. Ignoring Danny's wide eyes and trembling hands, she stepped around his desk and toward the two betas. "I'll give you one more chance to turn around, go back to the house, and pretend this never happened," she offered, voice stern. Isaac almost looked as though he wanted to take that chance. He swallowed, looked to Erica. She smiled devilishly.

"Guess we'll just have to kill her, too."

* * *

Jackson shoved Lydia a little harder, ordering her to walk as they moved quickly down the corridors after school. Something lingered in his brain, bugging him as he moved stealthily between students, all the while ignoring Stiles' stupid answers to Lydia's annoying questions. He frowned, Grace's image popping into his head for just a moment before he realised: where was she? He asked Stiles, who frowned a bit and shrugged. "Library, last I saw her," he said, his attention turning back to Lydia. Jackson stopped.

"I need to go find her," he said, not waiting for an answer before he turned on his heel and practically ran back to the library, hesitating outside the door as he listened in on the conversation, the halls around him completely deserted.

"You know, Erica, I could hand both your asses right back to you right now," Grace said, and Jackson could practically hear the smirk in her voice. "I'm smarter, stronger, faster. Just because there's two of you, doesn't make the advantage to your side. So try me - just _test_ my patience. Because if it wasn't for me, you'd still be the oily-haired, scared little girl you were just a month ago."

He heard Erica snort in faux-amusement and pressed his lips together. "Tell me, Grace, how your bite was the one that turned me."

"It wasn't my bite as much as my opinion," the brunette replied, her features slowly returning to her own. Erica had not yet phased, same with Isaac, but both stood on guard and ready to turn at any moment. "Erica, come on. You know what it's like to have your body taken from you, your control gone. This is what the kanima is - somebody without control of their mind or body. Please understand that you can't kill Lydia, she has no control. But we can change her!"

"Please," Erica snorted, her features slowly but surely changing. "Save me the sob story. I've been _dying_ to get some blood on my hands since I changed."

Didn't they understand that murder was not a joke? She'd killed the worst man she'd known - her father - and assisted in the killing of another two people and despite their horrid reputations and bloodlust, she felt guilt weighing down on her for those two murders every single day of her life. She knew what it was to take one's life, take one's potential, and no matter who that was, it hurt so badly. Her chest felt constricted, she still had nightmares about Peter and Alexander. It _wasn't_ a joke. Lydia Martin's dead eyes would be the only thing they'd see in their dreams for the rest of their lives, her scream the only sound heard.

Accepting the challenge and determined to stop them, Grace allowed herself to lose the control of maintaining her human features as she slipped back into her werewolf state, her eyes flashing before she darted Erica's attack, knocking the girl aside with an ease that she wished she didn't possess. She grabbed the blonde by the back of the neck, heaving her into the air before bringing her back down to the ground like she'd seen Derek do a thousand and one times, knocking the air out of the girl's lungs as Isaac came behind her, the attempt at a surprise attack. Jackson gritted his teeth as he watched and Danny was paralysed with fear as the curly haired boy was tossed aside into the air as Erica had been. "Get out of here," Grace hissed at Danny, who stood and gathered his things as fast as possible.

As Isaac made a second attempt to get her down, Grace flipped him over her shoulder, smashing him into the seat that Danny had just previously occupied and sending pieces of the wooden chair flying into the air. The boy landed with a grunt and Grace whirled around, too slow for Erica's oncoming storm. The taller girl grabbed Grace around the throat, squeezing as she smirked madly, her claws digging into the flesh of Grace's neck. Sputtering, she kicked and landed a meagre blow to Erica's side, no effect on the female beta. She clawed at the hands around her throat, saw spots in her vision as she began to fade from reality. Then, with a furious howl, she was dropped on her ass.

Erica grinned manically, beckoning for Isaac to assist her in what looked as though it was about to be the gutting of Grace Hart. She flashed her claws and grabbed the hem of Grace's shirt, tearing the whole garment off as the blonde pinned her down, lightly tracing patterns on Grace's tanned skin before the nial protruded the layers of flesh and sent a burning pain through her body. She mutilated the girl with no problem as Isaac stood by and did nothing, and that hurt more than the physical pain. As she opened her mouth to scream in protest once again, Grace heard a furious "McCall!" from out in the hall before Erica was pulled off and sent flying through the air, landing on a waist-height bookshelf before Isaac was tossed on top of her.

Scott offered his hand, a panic-stricken Jackson and Danny behind him.

"Come on," he urged, heaving the shirtless girl up and tugging her out of the room. God, she was thankful that everyone had left the school by now, because running around with a bloodied, painful wound in a bra was not on her to-do list and she definitely wouldn't have liked some random students seeing this. Jackson and Danny followed closely behind, but as they reached the parking lot, Danny fell behind, pointing in the direction of his own car.

"I'm not going with you," he said, shaking his head. Grace bit her lip and stepped forward, an apologetic look on her features.

"Danny, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, and he swallowed thickly. "Go to my house, Roman will tell you everything. He'll keep you safe," she promised, and almost reluctantly, he nodded and uttered his goodbyes before taking off to his own car, throwing his school things in the back-seat carelessly. The sun was quickly setting and though Grace had no idea what time it was, she'd bet that it would be verging on about six-pm. She should have been home, not bleeding, not feeling guilty because her friend was about to die. But how could she not? And why wasn't she healing? Her fingers fumbled with the steady flow of blood before jackson tapped her shoulder, wordlessly offering her his bunched up tank-top.

"We can dress it properly at my house," Scott said, starting Jackson's car, unashamedly excited to be driving Jackson's Porsche. Grace winced, pulling the white wife-beater over her frame and hoping she didn't get too much blood on it. Allison had called twice now, expressing the need for Scott and company to arrive soon, because Derek and Boyd were now only waiting for Erica and Isaac before the "fun" started happening.

When they arrived, they parked a fair way away and managed, despite Grace's unhealing wound, to sneak in through the back door and terrify the living daylights out of Stiles, Lydia and Allison. Stiles, seeing Grace's bloody side, rushed over to her and frowned. "Why aren't you healing?" he demanded, and Lydia looked confused but questioned nothing.

"I don't know," she whimpered quietly. How _pathetic_ of her to be crying about a few scratches on her stomach when Lydia was about to be executed - when there were bigger things at hand here. Her trust with Derek had been broken and Jackson was fussing over her with a damp cloth though not many words were exchanged between the two. She was angry with herself for being so weak so as to not let a few things heal - why _wasn't_ she healing?!_ You're deplorable_, she told herself, sniffing. _Heal, you idiot! Can't do anything right! You're so useless, your own body can't even do what its made to do and heal!_

As the others made a fuss in the main rooms of Scott's house, Grace slipped upstairs, the wounds that Jackson had described as "deep and bleeding" aching as she moved. They were dressed and covered now, a few blood stains remaining on Jackson's tank-top. She seated herself on Scott's bed, sighing as she ran her fingers through her short hair, cursing and cussing underneath her breath before she looked up, Jackson leaning on the door frame. "It was you, wasn't it?" he asked softly, though his voice held some venom.

"What?" Grace asked, frowning deeply.

"You edited the tape on the night of the full moon," Jackson persisted, and Grace blinked her eyes and shook her head.

"No, Jackson, I didn't."

He stared at her, a long, pitiful stare while tears brewed in her eyes for a reason she wasn't sure about. He hardened his jaw, swallowing thickly. "Do you still have my dad's ring?" he asked, avoiding her eye. She was shocked at his words, eyes wide as she stared at his profile before realising that he was completely serious. She gave a small nod, a slightly choked noise falling from her lips as she pushed her hair out the way and undid the gold chain that held the gold-banded ring around her neck. She ran her fingers across the smooth metal for the last time before dropping the ring into his open palm, feeling more inadequate than ever. _Pathetic_, her own voice snapped again. And, of course, she believed it.

He said nothing as he pocketed the ring and though he didn't want to take it back, her intentions with him were clear and he couldn't keep fooling himself... he needed to be reminded of the fact that she'd chosen to end their relationship and that she didn't want him anymore... but he couldn't let that go. When he met her eyes again, they were brimming with tears. "I hate you," she said thickly, chin trembling - because in that moment, she did. She hated him for reminding her of the mistake she made, forcing herself to let him go. She hated him for taking back the one thing that kept her sane, the one thing that she owned of his. He shook his head, a sad smile on his face.

"No, you don't," he told her, and it was so utterly true that she wanted to scream and punch him and hurt him and never talk to him again. But she couldn't, because self-control was not her strong point and she loved him like she'd never loved another soul. So she allowed herself the tiniest pleasure of the night, her wide, sad eyes focusing on his own before she travelled down, coming to his trembling lips which she so badly wanted to kiss. He was doing the same, admiring her reddened freckles and tiny nose, wet from her tears.

"You should hate me," Grace choked out, sounding strangled and emotional. Jackson shook his head, stepping forward, the sound of his quickened heartbeat and short, quick breaths making her own breath hitch. She swallowed, but the thick lump in her throat remained a part of her and she shook her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. "You should hate me," she said again, and his hand reached out to brush the single tear away, just a few inches away from her. She winced at his touch, cursing loudly at the effect it had on her. "Don't do that."

"Grace, stop," he said, brushing his thumb down the soft skin of her cheek despite her shying away. "I could never hate you."

When she glanced up at him, there was no other way to describe her expression other than sadness. It wasn't the usual sadness - it was pure and angry and hurt and it heated up her face and made her chin dimple and tremble terribly before a full blow sob shook her body and she drew in a sharp breath, embarrassed at the noise as she squeezed her eyes closed, unable to look at him any longer. He gently coaxed her face toward him as he stepped closer still, overcome with the need to protect what was his. She was his, and he could remember their first kiss still, where she'd pressed her forehead against his and said quietly, "I promise you forever. I never break my promises."

Jackson could physically feel his heart shatter in two and he was sure Grace heard the heartbeat falter at the memory. He blinked, smiling at her as she opened her eyes again. "You promised forever," he said thickly, and she reached up to cover her mouth with her hand to avoid another sob slipping through. "You're not allowed to die on me, Gracie, come on." He didn't mean physically, not right now - right now, he meant that she needed to keep herself alive emotionally. She couldn't shut down on him, he wouldn't allow that to happen. The girl wanted to protest against it, but before she knew it, his forehead was rested against hers and there was but a moment of tense hesitation before their lips softly connected.

It didn't take long for her hands to wrap around his back, pulling him as close as possible as he tangled a hand in her hair, the sensations of just kissing her overcoming him. He'd missed his - being close to her, feeling her, tasting the slight coconutty taste of the lip balm she always bought and he'd loved. A large hand made way to his waist, where it rested only to hold her close.

The kiss wasn't like their other ones. It was slow and desperate and filled with Grace's sobs in between, but it was unbelievably perfect and both teen loved every moment of it, even if Grace didn't notice her hands slipping over the scaly skin of what the boy who was slowly turning into the kanima. Their hands explored every inch of exposed skin, Jackson's caressing her shoulders and sliding under the wife-beater he'd given her to run along the smooth skin of her back as he panted against her lips, the sensation of his warmth dearly missed.

A breathy moan escaped her lips, but the rest was short lift as she snapped to attention, her eyes glowing golden as she clutched onto Jackson for dear life. "They're inside," she whispered, shoving Jackson toward the closet. With a longing look, she ordered him to stay inside and wait until she was able to come and get him, biting her lip hard to stop another set of tears as she raced downstairs to find Isaac throwing Stiles to the ground. Lydia had since hidden in Scott's room and, if Grace could hear her, so could Isaac.

The boy looked at his pack member with wide eyes, unsure about how to approach her. He felt bad for this afternoon and his eyes drifted to the wound that should have healed, a frown crossing his features as blood seeped through the bandages. He could smell it and was sure that the ones outside could, too, it was that strong. "You're not healing," Isaac stated, concerned. Grace snorted and wiped her eyes with her palms, ridding the rest of her tears.

"No shit," she retorted, and Isaac swallowed. "I don't want to fight you, Isaac, please don't make me do that," she pleaded, and he gritted his teeth, looking away before drawing a sharp breath and stepping around her toward the front door, followed by Scott, Allison, Stiles and Grace. As he rejoined Derek, the alpha smirked.

"I think I know why you keep refusing me, Scott," he said, and the boy looked confused. "You're already an alpha of your own pack. But you know you can't beat me."

"I can hold you off until the cops get here," Scott replied, shrugging. Derek opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a fierce hiss from above them. The four teens turned and looked to the roof of Scott's house, the figure of the kanima stealthily making its way across the roof. It paused, gave a screech and jumped away, leaving Grace trembling as she gave a small whimper, a single word falling from her lips.

"Jackson."


	8. Oh, How The Mighty Fall

**A/N: So writing this chapter may or may not have made me cry. Messin' with my emotions, this story. I wish I'd taken up a less soul-destroying hobby, like knitting. If I stop updating completely, I've taken up knitting. Okay? Also, TWO IMPORTANT THINGS.**

**1. I've made a trailer for this story! You can find a direct link to this on my profile.  
2. I've also made a playlist of songs that remind me of Jackson and Grace / Lay Me Down. This can also be found on my profile - very nice to play when you're reading an update. It sets the mood!**

**To my reviewers for chapter seven - apologies for the cliffhanger. But not really. ;)**

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT:**

**OH, HOW THE MIGHTY FALL**

* * *

As soon as Jackson, or rather, the kanima, had disappeared into the night, Derek took off after him.

Despite her poorly dressed wound, Grace just couldn't allow the alpha to run after him to kill him - there was more urgency now that he was loose, more need to protect him against the lizard-creature inside of him and protect him from Derek. The brunette gritted her teeth and stole a look toward Scott, who was confused and obviously unsure about what to do, before she turned on her heel and began sprinting through the streets, Derek in her line of vision. She could hear Stiles protesting against her leaving, but his calls only pushed her to run faster and catch the alpha before he could do any real damage to Jackson. He was innocent, even if he had killed people - it wasn't him, Grace reminded herself. It was the Kanima.

She pushed herself to go harder, faster although her side and stomach screamed in protest with every step she took. Derek was so much stronger with her and even though she was part of a pack, she felt weak and unable to carry out the simplest of tasks - like healing. She swallowed down her pain as she stopped in her tracks, Derek catapulting himself over a locked fence with an ease that Grace knew she wouldn't be able to pull off. So instead, she found herself climbing up numerous boxes and bits of unused debris just beside the fence, feeling pain jolt through her as she landed on the other side, Derek disappearing into the darkness.

The brunette cursed, her voice deepening as she shifted as she started to run again, soon finding Derek face-to-face with the kanima in an abandoned building lot. He was growling, eyes glowing red as the kanima's tongue flickered out of its mouth, a hiss escaping its lips. He was raised in a defensive stance, waiting for the werewolf to attack. And attack he did. Grace ran at him, full-pelt until she collided side-on with Derek, a howl pulled from his throat in anger as they both fell to the floor, tumbling a few feet before Grace was pushed off of him and practically thrown away like a rag doll. She lay on the concrete for a moment, collecting herself as the kanima and Derek fought angrily, teeth bared and snarls filling the night air. With a grunt, she stood only to watch Jackson climb up the side of a concrete pillar, tail whipping an electricity box and sending sparks everywhere.

Both wolves winced away from the sudden flash of light, and the kanima jumped down, grabbing Derek by the front of his shirt and shoving him harshly, sending him sprawling into the dark shadows behind a pile of unused building materials. The brunette panted, trying her hardest to force herself forward in an attempt to connect with the kanima's inner-Jackson, part of her desperate to un-phase him back into the innocent teenage boy he was. She hobbled forward, an open gash from Derek on her forehead dripping blood down the side of her face as she made her way toward Jackson. She didn't even notice the large SUV sliding into the parking lot or the two men getting out, one raising his gun and firing it seven times into Jackson's chest.

The unstable ground on which her world was balancing finally gave way, and Grace's golden eyes widened in fear and anger as she turned to the source, coming face-to-face with Chris Argent, who pressed his lips into a thin line and rose the gun now at her. "Don't move," he ordered, but she didn't listen, instead lunging at him with the last remaining force her body possessed. She didn't get very close before a single bullet was fired, hitting her square in the chest as she stopped, time seemingly freezing as she stared into the eyes of her murderer, feeling her heart already giving in to the bullet. Had she been healing, she would only take a moment before tearing Chris' head off and feeding it to the freaking kanima, but she could feel herself deteriorating. She opened her mouth, expression shocked, eyes pleading with him to help her. She couldn't die, not now - not with so much to be done. She had to right her wrongs, prove she wasn't the dead weight she'd been for so long.

Where was Derek? Why wasn't he helping her? Time and time again, she found, he'd failed to prove his loyalty to her and she couldn't have that as her alpha when she couldn't trust him - but she would never abandon him in a state like this no matter how many times he tried to kill her boyfriend or friends. She glanced around, hot tears forming in her eyes. She didn't know what to do - she couldn't breath properly, she couldn't move, all she could do was stare hopelessly at the faces that surrounded her. Chris' almost shocked looking expression as though he couldn't believe what he'd just done, Gerard smirking, Jackson's human face, Derek's narrowed eyes, Scott's hand entwined with Allison's, Stiles chewing hard on his bottom lip, Isaac's mouth falling open in shock... her brother, clutching Danny as he cried. The people she'd come to love, all surrounding her, watching her die.

The one expression she'd never forget - that of her mother's. She was distraught, opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish as soundless cries shook her body. Her baby girl, bleeding from her heart - her good heart.

Her shaking hands reached up to clutch at her chest as though it would aid her wound, but the blood poured endlessly and she choked out a sob, her paled hands contrasting against the blood now wiped over her trembling fingers. Grace could taste the blood in her mouth, she could feel it in the back of her throat, and she wondered why dying had to be in slow motion. "Jackson," she mumbled, feeling the blood dribble out of her mouth. The kanima stood behind Chris, enraged with the sight before it - it's inner Jackson was freaking out, anger setting in as Grace's legs gave way beneath her and she fell, unable to do anything but stare wide-eyed at Chris, pants and whimpers falling from her lips.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, falling limp to the ground. She'd never meant anything more than she did those words.

* * *

The next day at school, Scott was surprised to see cameras installed in all the halls, capturing every little moment on tape. It wasn't beneath Gerard to do such a thing and, really, why wouldn't he? Teenagers were turning into werewolves and kanimas and killing people - and they spent a hell of a long time at school. Or, for some, not at school. The man looked over the day's roles list, unsurprised to see both Jackson Whittemore and Grace Hart marked as absent from their homeroom periods and their first three lessons. Grace, one of Derek's betas, would no longer be a problem to the hunters now, Chris had made sure of that no matter how conflicted he'd been... And Jackson - well, now, it was just a matter of locating him and putting him down before he killed anyone else.

A knock at the old man's door made him look up, and a sardonic smile crossed his features as his eyes came to rest on Allison, who was looking especially nervous that day. He motioned for the dark-haired girl to sit and she did as she was told, regardless of how hesitant she was to do so. All she wanted was to get out of this and go home, pretend that people weren't dying all around her. Swallowing, the girl prepared herself for the Gerard-style interrogation that was sure to come, doing her best to look and act as passive as she could possibly be when his questions about Jackson came firing.

"Did you know that neither Jackson nor Grace showed up to school today?" Gerard asked, and Allison frowned deeply.

"They didn't?" she asked, immediately growing worried. "Jackson mentioned that he thought he was coming down with a cold, but Grace was fine."

"Perhaps she's spending the day taking care of Jackson?" Gerard offered and, without thinking, Allison shook her head.

"No, they're not together anymore," she answered, making Gerard cock an eyebrow. So why had she come to protect the kanima instead of just letting Derek or even the hunters take the creature out? She was a beta werewolf, she didn't need to protect the abomination of the supernatural world, yet she was there, and took a seemingly fatal wound for him - another thing which Gerard was surprised about. The girl could have bounced back from that ordinary bullet as quickly as anything, yet her dead body had been littered with unhealed wounds that seemed to be quite a few hours old. She was a curious case and, had she not been put down by Chris, he'd have liked to explore that, know everything he could about the werewolf species.

"So you haven't seen her?" Gerard asked, the image of the brunette girl's lifeless body flashing in his mind, a smirk crossing his features. Allison frowned, suspicious, but shook her head. "You should go back to class," her grandfather said, nodding his head. "I'll see you after school."

Seriously doubting the man's motives, Allison stood and left the office, quickly rushing to her next class. She needed to speak to Scott - right now.

* * *

Stiles sat with his back slumped against the cold wall of the prisoner movement truck that had been taken from the station, his backpack beside him as he explained to Jackson what he looked like when he turned into the kanima. The boy was not convinced that it was him doing the killing, instead rolling his eyes at Stiles' descriptions before threatening to strangle him with the apparent tail he had - which did nothing. What kind of tail did nothing at all? As his company's phone began to ring, Jackson sighed and sat back against the wall, wishing he had someone other than Stiles Stilinski explaining everything to him. For Grace, he'd always tolerated the boy... but now, well, he wanted to hurt him. Being cooped up in this stupid van was not amusing in the slightest.

"What?" Stiles demanded into his phone, his face scrunching up as he tried to make sense of what Scott was saying. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"Do I sound like I'm joking?" Jackson heard Scott ask, and he leaned forward, eyes widening. He was curious to know what was going on - it sounded like it'd be juicy news.

"What the hell do I do?" Stiles asked, panic rising in his throat. "Scott, you have to find her-" His voice sounded choked as he tried to hold back the emotion threatening his voice.

"I will find her," Scott replied, and a sick feeling overcame Jackson as he realised who they were talking about. Grace.

"What the hell is going on Stiles?" Jackson demanded as Stilinski hung up the phone, running his hands over his face stressfully. He paused, looking up at Jackson with a new-found malice in his eyes as though he was irritated with the boy for even asking what the hell was going on, as though it was none of his business. Stiles was angry, because he knew that it was Jackson's business. He swallowed.

"Grace was shot last night," he said, and Jackson frowned.

"But she can heal. So what's going on?"

"She hasn't been healing, Jackson..." came the reply, Stiles trailing off. "She was shot in the chest."

A cold feeling washed over Jackson, and he wasn't sure how to respond. He slumped back into his seat and dropped his head into his hands, his breathing suddenly hoarse and coming in quick pants. She couldn't be dead - she just couldn't. He would kill to keep that girl alive, she was the only perfect thing in this god damn town and she couldn't be dead - it wasn't possible. How was he supposed to respond to news like that? It was his first love - the girl he wanted to be his last. She was Grace and she was supposed to be invincible, taking on alphas and her father and making sure that people did the good that she knew was supposed to be done.

She was probably the most unselfish person that Jackson knew yet she beat herself up over mistakes that weren't even her own fault most of the time. Maybe that's why she wasn't healing - she wasn't letting herself. He'd heard her insulting herself over the smallest things aloud, she'd tried and, in her eyes, failed to make a difference. But she had made a difference to almost everyone she'd met, and the girl should have been proud of herself. Instead, she had been left for dead, surrounded by the nothingness of the night. Jackson swallowed the lump in his throat. "Let me out of here," he said, voice stern. He needed to be out there looking for her - he needed to find her now. Stiles shook his head, and a sudden anger overcame him. "Let me out!" he screamed, jumping as far forward as he could with his ties. "I swear to God, Stiles, just let me find her! Then you can do whatever the hell you want with me!"

Stiles would always envy the way Jackson loved Grace - she'd turned him into someone capable of caring and although he loved Lydia, he hadn't ever loved her like Jackson did Grace. It was something so new, so special. Stiles swallowed back his tears and shook his head, standing and making his way to the truck door. "I'm sorry, Jackson, I can't," he said thickly, opening the door and trying as hard as he could to block out the boy's screamed demands as he stepped outside, sitting down in the foliage and cursing multiple times under his breath. This couldn't be happening - not to his Gracie. They'd been friends since they were kids, hanging around and laughing... Hell, his dad was dating her mom!

Part of him wanted to call his dad and tell the man that Grace was seriously injured - dead, apparently - and missing, but he couldn't. That might ruin everything, having his father out there looking frantically for Grace when the hunters who had killed her were convinced she was dead. He could picture Gerard smirking over her bloody, lifeless body and almost cried out in frustration, a new-found hatred for that man nestling deep inside of him. He stood, paced for a little bit before slumping back down in the ground a moment, feeling rather useless and annoyed. He, like Jackson, just wanted to be out there helping Scott and whoever else was looking find Grace - and soon.

* * *

Quinton Roberts had always told himself that he'd not get tangled up in the business of Beacon Hills.

He was nothing but a media class teacher or the occasional English substitute, and he'd long since put his days as a protector behind him - so the term was slightly corny and he'd hated telling various supernatural beings of his 'occupation', but being a protector was not a job to be taken lightly. The choices that the man needed to make day in and day out regarding whether or not a creature of the supernatural lived or died was hard, especially when that creature was being accused for murder or some other crime. But Grace Hart - she had been in his class for almost a year now and was quite the student, interesting and clever. And the media assignment that she'd done with Jackson Whittemore had been wonderful... but he knew there was something going on with her.

He could spot a werewolf in a sea of thousands of people, especially a werewolf in trouble. Grace had more than once accidentally let her eyes flash golden or her claws sprout in class and he'd known for quite a long time what she was. Sighing, he glanced back at the girl, passed out in the backseat of his car. He gripped his steering wheel and pressed his lips into a thin line, almost regretting taking Grace from where she was "killed" and bringing her back to his own place. She wasn't healed and had spent most of her time in the coma-like state he'd been trained to place people in, and he realised that she was too badly injured for him to do anything. But he couldn't have her waking up and seeing who he was - it could let him be known to the two werewolf and hunter community of Beacon Hills, and he hadn't moved here for that. He'd moved for a fresh start.

Quinton would admit that it had been very, very difficult to keep her alive. A bullet wound to the chest and numerous other injuries over her body assured that she'd lost a high amount of blood, and her pulse was so weak that he had been sure she was dead when he'd found her. But alas, Robert's took her home and patched her up as best as he could with Deaton's aid, grateful to have such a man as an old friend. Her wounds had been too serious, though, even for Deaton, and the man had pleaded with Quinton to get him to take her to a hospital. What would it look like, having her show up there with a bullet lodged in her chest, her side and stomach ripped to pieces and deep scratches over her body? He hoped she'd have a good story, because he wouldn't be able to explain any of this no matter how hard he tried to come up with a plausible lie. Deaton glanced over at Quinton from the passenger seat, his lips pressed together. "You know she won't make it unless you take her to the hospital," he repeated for the thousandth time that day. Roberts nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I just wonder what the emergency staff are going to think when she turns up with no explanation for what happened to her," he muttered.

"She'll blame it on a random attack," Deaton reasoned, believing such things. Grace was a smart girl, both he and Quinton knew that well enough to know she wouldn't give a name or a description of her attacker, instead blaming her injuries on sheer bad luck and being in the wrong place at the wrong time - if she lived to tell her tale, that was. The car, windows tinted almost pure black, pulled into the emergency ambulance parking lot of the hospital and Deaton stepped out, Roberts nodding a goodbye to him. "I need assistance!" he called out to officers, who wasted no time in grabbing a stretcher and coming over to the car. "I found her in an abandoned lot, she needs emergency treatment now." His orders were firm and unwavering, and the officers nodded and did as they were instructed, seeing the state of the girl, who had bled all over the leather seats of Quinton's car. He'd have quite the time, cleaning that up.

The officers lifted her carefully onto the stretcher, hurrying inside with Deaton pressing his lips together and getting into the car before anyone could request that he come inside and give his details. As the black car disappeared around the corner, the officers wheeled the pale, bleeding girl into the emergency operating rooms, passing a mother scolding her teenage son.

"Do you understand that all your friends are going to be juniors while you're still a sophomore?" Melissa was saying to Scott, the boy sighing and nodding his head with the promise to study on his tongue. Before he could respond, his eyes caught the face of the girl being wheeled past, and Scott paled, his mouth falling open as his throat became thick with the emotion. Melissa's eyes followed his and she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as Scott let out a choked garble, hands fumbling around for his phone before he dialed Stiles' number, willing him to answer. When he did, Scott took a breath and managed to get out a few sick-sounding words, voice tight. "They found Grace."

He followed the surgeons through to the emergency surgery room, ear to the door as he spoke to Stiles in a frantic whisper. "She's alive," he said quickly, frowning in concentration as he listened closely. He could hear her heartbeat, weak and slowing down as they tried to stabilize her, failing. "They're losing her," he whispered, panicking. "Stiles, she's dying-"

He was cut off by the unmistakable sound of the defibrillators starting up and shocking the girl's bare chest in an attempt to start her heart. His breath caught in his throat as he couldn't find her heartbeat, tears welling in his eyes, hot and prickly. As the defibrillators went again, he jumped at the sound of her weak but still very much there heartbeat, a sigh of relief escaping her lips though she was far from safe. He could hear Stiles' voice on the other end of the phone, pleading with him to tell him what was going on, and for a while, he couldn't bring himself to talk. After a short time, he cleared his throat. "They bullet just missed her heart," he said thickly. "She's losing a lot of blood, too." A hand tapping his shoulder caught him off-guard, and he was surprised to see Danny standing beside him, wide-eyed and worried.

"Scott, what's going on?" he asked, desperate. The boy drew in a deep breath, straining his ears.

"I think she's going to live," he said to both Stiles and Danny. "Does her brother know?"

"He knew she was missing - so did her mom. They're both on their way."

Scott swallowed, suddenly remembering the tablet that he needed to retrieve from Danny's car. Stepping away from the door, he ran his hands through his hair, still holding his phone and on the line with Stiles. "Danny, I really need to go. Call me if anything happens, okay?" he pleaded, and the Hawaiian boy nodded his head, spotting Roman practically sprinting toward him. Scott nodded, taking a breath before he hugged Clara and said sorry three times in her ear, confusing the distraught woman. Taking a seat, the blonde woman held her son's hand tightly, finding comfort in the gesture.

Grace would bounce back - she had too. She always did.

* * *

Finding out things about the kanima was hard enough, but with the stress of Grace being in a surgery that would surely take hours and hours, the pressure to find out enough about it was overcoming the three teens as they stood on the edge of a small cliff overlooking Beacon Hills, tossing out ideas as quickly as possible to come up with a plausible theory on what was happening to Jackson and trying to find out whether or not it could be reversed. Grace, Stiles thought, would know what to do. She'd be rational and try and coax the memories from the kanima part of Jackson's brain or say something to make him remember. Maybe she'd be able to find more information on the creature or she'd know someone who could...

"We need Grace here," he let slip, closing his mouth as soon as the words had come out. Scott looked distraught, unable to reply to what his best friend had said, checking his phone for any updates from Danny or Roman. Nothing was there, and he sighed heavily and raked his hand through his hair.

"We can do this," Scott urged, nodding his head.

"I got it," Stiles said, and both Allison and Scott looked to him. "Kill Jackson, problem solved."

"If you want Grace to come out of surgery and serve you for dinner at Derek's next pack meeting, then sure," Scott snapped, rolling his eyes. "Remember when I almost killed you? I had someone to stop me, Jackson has no one."  
"That's his own fault," Stiles said thickly.

"He has Grace," Allison said quietly, and Scott frowned. "They love each other. Killing Jackson will kill her, too, Stiles. She needs him, and he needs her."

"Well, we don't exactly have her here with us right now, do we?"

"You're starting to sound like Derek," Scott snarled, and Stiles blinked.

"I'm sorry," he managed, frowning deeply as he turned away. He was stressed, and part of him knew that killing Jackson wasn't the answer to any of this, but he couldn't help feeling as though Jackson was the cause of why Grace wasn't healing. He swallowed thickly. "I think I know why Grace isn't healing," he said quietly, and Scott and Allison shared an inquisitive look. "She's not letting herself. You know how she blames herself for things that aren't her fault... everything that's been happening lately; Jackson being the kanima, people dying, new betas. She's been stressed, thinking that she needs to save everyone. She can't, but she doesn't know that."

"So you think she's not letting herself heal out of guilt?" Allison asked, and he nodded.

"Not on purpose... but yeah. She doesn't think she deserves to heal."

Scott swallowed, looking away as those words fell from Stiles' lips. Grace was his best friend, the one girl he'd known forever and the only woman aside from his mother that he'd always count on. He'd watched her grow up, he'd tugged on her pigtails to annoy her and slipped her candy underneath the school tables in class... She was Grace, and she'd always been there.

It kind of scared him that it could change so quickly.

* * *

It had been a long, long night in the sheriff's department and Jackson was glad to be finally leaving - not to go home, though. Since he'd gotten the news about Grace being in surgery, he'd been wanting to get all this crap about Stiles and Scott abducting him out of the way and go see how she was doing. It had been seven hours of Grace in surgery now, and he was wondering how much longer she'd be under the knife for. Danny had been keeping her updated, but aside from the occasional text message every hour or so, there wasn't anything new happening with her. He knew there was nothing he could do when sitting in the ER, but he felt like he should be there... he wanted to see her when she woke, wanted to make sure she was okay.

The boy waved a goodbye to his father, who dropped him off at the hospital before saying something about picking Jackson up whenever he was ready as his son walked away, soon finding himself sitting beside Danny and Grace's mother, her brother on Danny's other side. Part of him felt as though he didn't belong, but he knew that the kiss he'd shared with Grace not twenty-four hours ago meant something more, and he knew that he didn't hate her like she'd said he should. It wasn't possible, hating that girl. No matter how many times she said they were over or stepped on him or how strongly she smelt of Derek Hale, Jackson would always go back to her.

He wondered where Derek was - since last night, he'd not seen or heard of the alpha wolf and was sure that Grace's family hadn't, either. Wasn't he supposed to be her fake boyfriend? Jackson almost snorted. He was doing a pretty shitty job of playing that role. Clara reached over, silently taking the boy's hand, earning an inquisitive look from him. "Thank you for coming," she managed, licking her lips nervously. Clara had always liked Jackson, despite how up-and-down he and Grace had been over the past few months. Derek was bad news, and the woman knew that. Jackson nodded and resumed his silent staring at the ground, going over their first few months as an exclusive couple in his mind, re-living their little moments. People came and went to wish the best to Clara, Scott's mom one of those people as she'd lead in Sheriff Stilinski, who sat beside Clara and held her as she cried.

Jackson could recall the mornings when he'd woke laying across from Grace, her doe-eyes fluttering open in the lazy morning light, her heavy lashes overshadowing her deep brown pupils. She always woke witht eh same, sleepy smile when she saw Jackson beside her, and she always looked perfect in the early rays of sunlight with her hair a tangled mess around her face and her freckled nose wrinkling up when he kissed it. He couldn't help but ask himself if he'd ever see that sight again and he vowed that he would. After this, he wouldn't let her get away. They were made to be together - both of them knew that.

It was just a matter of Grace letting herself feel something other than the bitter sadness that seemed to consume her these days.


	9. Gracious Goes The Ghost Of You

**A/N: *locks herself up in her room and pretends that neither Motel California or this chapter of Lay Me Down happened ever***

**One thing: is there any certain scenes that you guys think that I should write? There's going to be a lot of confrontation between Derek and various others soon (especially Isaac) but I was wondering if there are any scenes that you want to request. I really do take your opinions and suggestions to heart, so don't be afraid to say "yo, you should add something with name/name in there for detail pls" if you want me to. Please keep your reviews coming, I love you guys!**

**Fan1334: **I hope this is soon enough (and long enough omg) for you. :')

**AngelChick1432:** *plays a tiny violin for the children and cries*

**BaDWolF89: **CLIFFHANGERS ARE SO EVIL but that's what makes them fun!

**Molly-Dice:** I'd definitely been playing around with ideas for Mr Roberts in my head and my first idea was that he'd be a hunter with the Argents, but I kind of wanted to take Deaton's role a step further and make him what I call a protector. I also want to make the lead in a Derek/OC story a protector omg. If I ever get around to writing that.

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE:**

**GRACIOUS GOES THE GHOST OF YOU**

* * *

"Time of death... 11.56pm."

The doctor operating on Grace had a solemn expression on his face beneath the mask over his nose and mouth, eyebrows pulled together in something of a frown as he peeled his gloves off, the remaining surgeons getting ready to clean the operating room. He swallowed, always dreading the part where he needed to tell the families of his failed patients that they were dead - gone forever. It didn't really seem fair, but it was a part of his job, and he sighed as he undid his apron and tore off the mask, putting them in a bin beside the door. He stepped out, eyes falling on the blonde woman sitting there with her partner. He didn't mean for his expression to tell her the truth, but she read him like an open book and her mouth fell open, chin trembling as she foresaw the words that perched on his tongue.

The sheriff reached around the shaking woman and held her close to his chest, and the doctor swallowed, a lump rising in her throat. "I'm so sorry," he said, sincerity in his voice. Nothing was coming from Clara's mouth but strangled moans as her knuckles whitened from the tight grip she had on sheriff Stilinski's shirt, tears filling the man's own eyes as the doctor turned and walked back into the operating room, ready to assist his fellow surgeons in removing the blood-covered body after cleaning her wounds.

She had been young, their patient for the night, and as her eyes remained close and the heart monitor gave an angry, continuous beat, the man couldn't help but feel sorry for the family. She almost looked like his own daughter, which made the situation much worse. And he could _hear_ them all outside, sobs wracking their bodies as some couldn't even stand to hold the realization of a loved one's death. He pressed his lips together, wishing not to hear how distraught they were.

It was Jackson who was the only one not crying. It was as though he couldn't believe it - his mind was refusing to register the fact that she was dead and gone, and he stared at the linoleum flooring of the hospital with his lips slightly parted and his hands shaking furiously. Roman was beside him, holding Danny so tight that the boy might've been squashed to death had he been just a little smaller. He wondered if he should call Scott or Stiles and tell them what had happened. Maybe Derek, though he doubted the alpha would care much. It was his fault, Grace being in surgery - he should have protected her that night instead of leaving her to die.

Life seemed to be happening in slow motion for those in the hospital for Grace that night, and nobody could seem to move their suddenly iron limbs at a normal speed. Clara couldn't seem to breathe as she hung on tightly to the sheriff, who was crying, too, the woman in his arms mumbling her daughter's name over and over again as though calling her would bring her back from the dead. Whipping out his phone, Jackson typed in both Scott and Stiles' numbers and sent only two words to them both: _she's dead_. He needed not go further than that, because an apology to them would've been a lie. He wasn't sorry for them, he wasn't even sorry for Grace's family. He was just sorry for Grace.

It took a while, but eventually, there was an angry stinging in Jackson's chest that he couldn't get rid of, feeling as though he was being stabbed repeatedly in the chest with a knife. Ten minutes passed since the surgeon walked away. Twenty. They still hadn't wheeled her body out of the room and he could still hear the flat-lined heart monitor from his seat beside the door. He wished they'd just turn it off already... the sound would drive him mad with anger. He swallowed, ignoring his phone beeping with responses from Stiles and Scott. He wrung his hands together. Stared at the ground. Listened to Clara's sobbing. His throat became thick as he realised he couldn't breathe right and soon, he was crying, too, because she was _dead_ and she wasn't coming back anytime soon. She was gone.

Nothing could have prepared Jackson for that, and finally, he let out a vicious cry.

* * *

_Dying was not what one expected it to be._

_She'd never guessed that she'd end up here, sitting on a warm rock in the summer sun. Grace only knew she was dead because of how brilliantly green everything was and how the water of the lake twinkled so nicely in the afternoon sun, it reminded her of the night she'd so desperately feared for the past few months. She need no longer be scared of the full, pretty moon - heaven was not a place where she could phase. She was herself again, and it was nice to be normal Gracie again. She wasn't dressed in the clothes she'd died in (hospital gowns were not flattering to her skin tone apparently), and she wasn't even wearing what she'd been shot in._

_Instead, a pretty, floral print dress hugged her curves and sat around the middle of her thighs, contrasting quite nicely against her skin tone. She wondered if this was the dress she'd be buried in or if her mother would chose something a little more her style - then again, she wouldn't be there to see her ripped body be buried, so she guessed it didn't really matter. She just wanted her mother to be happy, though it might've taken a while for that to happen. She was, after all, dead now._

_Heaven - or wherever she was - was quite lonely. Not another figure seemed to be present and she wondered if perhaps she'd been stuck in lingo, sitting in Beacon Hills as spirit for the rest of her life. She didn't like that idea, despite how much Grace would have liked to watch her family and friends continue with their lives. Perhaps she'd see Roman marry Danny which would be wonderful. Clara might even remain with the sheriff and she realised that she'd have really liked to give Stiles shit when officially announced as his step-sister. Scott might finally rise up and be the leader he was supposed to - maybe even Stiles and Lydia had a chance. She hoped that Isaac and Derek would find someone soon, too, because they were lonely souls and although she'd been mad at Derek for letting her die, Grace couldn't wish being lonely for eternity on anyone... it was a horrid feeling, and the girl found that she'd miss not being lonely. Jackson entered her thoughts, and the brunette gave a sigh._

_He'd move on - well, she hoped. She wasn't all that great and Jackson could have any girl that he wanted. It was just a matter of him putting on his big-boy pants and letting Grace go. She knew he could do it... he had to. Otherwise, if she was stuck on Earth, she'd have to watch him grow old alone, and that was not a desire she had. She needed him to be strong. He needed to look after his family and himself... but part of her doubted that happening._

_The brunette furrowed her eyebrows, looking into the trees as she saw something move. Was she not alone anymore? She swallowed, standing from her rock and squinting into the distance, seeing a broad-shouldered figure walking toward her. Was she really in the Beacon Hills reserve, or was this another creature of the supernatural - perhaps a ghost, like she appeared to be? The figure stopped, standing at the edge of the lake. Water lapped at the person's bare feet, and Grace squared her shoulders, feeling afraid. Suddenly, the figure disappeared into thin air, Grace jumping slightly in surprise as she frowned, stepping toward the edge of the rock._

_Somebody clearing their throat behind her made her scream, and she whirled around, feeling herself beginning to fall into the lake beneath her rock. A hand shot out, grabbing her forearm and preventing her fall. As she looked up, she let out another hysterical scream at the smiling face that looked back at her. Peter Hale. "Let me go!" she screamed. "Don't touch me!"_

_"Oh, stop your dramatics," the ex-alpha scolded gently, waiting until the girl was safely away from the edge of the rock before letting go of her arm. He smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It sure is nice to see you again," he said, and he kind of meant it. So he'd gone off the rails a little bit - it didn't make him evil. He'd gotten his revenge and frankly, he was sick of being dead. It was crappy and boring, and none of the other spirits around this place were fun, either. Hence why he'd been working on his resurrection techniques._

_"What do you want?" Grace asked, frowning at the man before her. He looked offended._

_"I'm trying to offer you a gift," he replied, hurt in his voice though most was feigned. The girl before him looked slightly curious and intrigued, but didn't allow herself to get too interested. "It sure is a shame you died, Grace. You had a lot of potential. But now it's just you and me stuck in lingo world - we both weren't ready to die, and now we're here until a blinding white light appears to take us upstairs to meet the big guy. Doesn't that sound fun?" he asked, and the girl wrinkled her freckled nose and shook her head._  
_"I think I'd rather be alone, thanks," Grace replied, and Peter raised a hand to his chest._

_"Hey, now, you set me on fire and allowed your stupid alpha to slit my throat. At least hear what I have to say." Grace sighed, cocking an eyebrow and pursing her lips expectantly. "What if I told you that you could go back?" Peter asked, and Grace frowned._

_"I'd say you're crazy. We're dead, Peter."_

_"I guess it's a good thing I've been cracking open the ol' witchcraft books, hey?" the man said, smirking. "Look, I can get you back to Beacon Hills - the real Beacon Hills. You can prance around in fields with your jock boyfriend. And punch Derek in the face - he's getting to be a pain in my ass, and I'm dead, yet he's annoying me." Grace had to chuckle at that, though the moment didn't last long. She stopped mid-laugh and looked away, avoiding Peter's eyes._

_"It's not nice of you to mess with me like that," she said, and he frowned._

_"Who's messing?" he asked innocently, and she snarled._

_"If you're so good at bringing people back to life, why didn't you bring yourself back?" Grace snapped, suddenly angry with the man. It was impossible, resurrection! Why was he messing with her so much?_

_Peter gave a sigh. "I've got kind of a shredded soul at the moment," he admitted as though ashamed. "But I'm working on it. You, on the other hand... you're a little more whole than I am. And you, I can get back. I'll be joining you soon enough."_

_"Why would you do this for me?" Grace asked, and Peter smiled._

_"Call it self-redemption. And you're a good kid, Grace."_

_Grace swallowed, searching his face for any sign of the man lying to her. When alive, Peter had been dangerous and manipulative... could she trust him? His expression, however, looked genuine and if he hadn't been a psychopath in his living days, he could have been handsome. But he did try to murder Scott's mom. That wasn't cool. "Okay," she whispered after a moment, still unsure. She didn't need to think about it, really, because she just wanted to breath real fresh air again and hug her mom and Roman and tell them how much she loved him more often, because she definitely didn't do that enough. She only hesitated because it was Peter Hale offering her this 'gift' and she wasn't entirely sure. But she needed to return - she needed to continue her role as protector of her kind, and all that was in between, including the 'abomination' that was the kanima... her Jackson. "Take me back."_

_The last thing she saw was Peter advancing on her, a small (almost genuine) smile on his lips as he shoved her backwards, sending her tumbling into the suddenly dark blue water of the lake with a shrill scream falling from her lips._

* * *

Just as the surgeons were about to unhook the shrilly beeping heart monitor from the dead girl on their table, a single heartbeat sounded through the room. One man dropped the utensils he was carrying, the sudden sound scaring him as he realised that she'd come back from the dead - a miracle, but one not to last unless they played their cards right here. He returned to her, ordering a blood bag to be brought in quickly as she was now bleeding slowly from her chest wound. The bullet had broken two of Grace's ribs and travelled just past her heart and into her right lung before hitting her axillary vein. It had taken them hours before to get the bullet and repair the damaged vein, and then she'd died - now, all that was to be done was treatment for the collapsed lung and stitching up her chest successfully.

Neither of which should be an overly hard task for the skilled team of surgeons - she wasn't losing as much blood as before since the vein had been closed off and all they needed to do was give her blood and keep her heart beating. Then, it was sure-fire survival for the girl. A miracle, the surgeons would say.

_Grace could feel the life returning to her body - her body! She was surrounded by the darkness of the lake, but it soon began to fade to bright light colours, her inner-parts of her consciousness. She felt alive, so alive, and it was so amazing though she hadn't fully climbed back into herself._

_She was growing tired, the transition between the spiritual world and her body slightly overwhelming as a sensation of quite possibly every emotion she'd ever felt overcame her. Sadness, happiness, anger, heartache, affection, jubilance, devastation, windiction, terror, perplexity... yearning, lust... love. God, the feeling of love was so strong inside of her she felt like she would burst, her heart swelled and she screamed, a sudden burst of light blinding her momentarily before she slowly opened her eyes, unsure of where she was. Back in her body? She couldn't tell._

The brunette blinked the warm tears from her dark, doe-eyes, her vision severely blurred as she stared into the now-fading light, which eventually took the shape of the ceiling light in her hospital room. She took a breath, her chest feeling tight, breathing a painful task. How long had she been out for? What day was it? She opened her mouth to speak but only managed a weak, strangled sound before a familiar face hovered over her, Nurse Evans smiling warmly at her. She was relieved to see the woman - her nurse had always been extra kind to her and tended to smuggle chocolate from the canteen into her room to save her from the horrid dinner she was provided with. She could remember her last long-lasting visit when Scott had attacked her and winced harshly at the memory. "Hey, now," the nurse cooed, chuckling at the brunette's expression. "Don't try and speak, your throat is probably aching. Are you in any pain?"

Grace managed a nod, and the nurse _tsked_ softly. "Might have to up your dosage. You've been out for quite a while - twelve hours. You were in surgery for seven hours, then you di-" she stopped mid-sentence, catching her word. "And then another three hours."

The brunette wrinkled her nose and Evans chuckled, amused. "You feel like seeing your mama, sweetheart?" she asked, and Grace's eyes widened.

"A-And Rom..."

"And Roman?"

She nodded eagerly despite the pain in her chest, needing to see her brother and mother as soon as possible. They had believed her dead for almost half an hour and just about broken down when they'd gotten the news that she'd been resuscitated although the doctors had given up on her. As the two walked into the room, Grace felt herself stiffen at how wrecked they looked. Both had large bags underneath their eyes and their cheeks were red with the emotion of the past twenty-four hours, but neither could hide the joy at seeing Grace, albeit she had tubes sticking out from almost every inch of her body. "Mom," she croaked, eyes welling with tears. "R-Roman."

"Oh, Gracie," Clara gushed, rushing forward. "My baby." Her words were spoken quickly as the woman held her tightly as she could without hurting her too badly. "You're okay," she mumbled, overcome with emotion. There really was someone watching over her daughter, protecting her - keeping her where she ought to be, in her family's arms. Roman was crying again, shocked and happy to see his sister alive when she'd been pronounced dead just twelve hours ago. It was indescribable, the feeling that washed over he and the rest of the group at the hospital when the doctor said that she'd been recovered - that she was _alive_ by some kind of magic, it seemed.

The three of them talked for awhile, Clara explaining who had bought her lovely-smelling flowers from the gift shop downstairs. Her hand flew to her chest, where a cold sensation caught her fingertips. Looking down, the girl frowned at the item in her hand: a plain golden chain with a large, gold-banded ring threaded onto it. Jackson's father's ring, the one he'd taken from her before kissing her back at Scott's house a few days ago. Her throat became thick and she examined the ring, seeing something new on the inside - in beautiful, cursive writing were two small, engraved words;_ my invincible_. She smiled through her teary eyes, a small, scratchy laugh sounding through the room. Her mother looked on, the tiniest of smiles on her lips. Jackson Whittemore, that boy always made her little girl smile. "He's outside, you know," she said quietly, and Grace looked up, eyes wide.

"He is?" she asked, and she nodded, standing as she said something about going to get him so as to give the two teens some alone time. It was about ten minutes before he wound up the courage to step into her room, almost avoiding her eyes as he stepped forward and sat down on the chair beside her bed, his cheeks and neck heating up as he tried to ignore the rising tears in his eyes. God, she made him an emotional wreck. She bit her lip hard, her closed fist sitting on her chest where the ring sat in her palm, protecting the item. "Hi," was all she could think of to say, and Jackson forced out a thin laugh, no amusement in his features.

"You disappear for two days and die for twenty minutes and all you can say is 'hi'?" he asked, and she smiled softly, looking away from him.

"I guess it doesn't really feel like I've been gone that long," she admitted, pressing her trembling lips together. She was so close to crying that it was ridiculous and she drew in a long, shaky breath before looking at him again. "I'm glad you're here," she said, and he snorted.

"Where else would I be?"

"Dead."

"Dying is your job, remember?" Jackson teased, and she couldn't help a light laugh at his words, finding them to be true. She'd had her fair share of near-death experiences, but this one - where she actually died - definitely took the cake. The brief image of Peter Hale flashed through her mind and she'd never felt more gratitude toward one man, despite trying to kill (or getting Scott to try and kill) many of her friends and giving her the bite. In her books, the ex-alpha had proved his healing soul and she would be ready to support him when he returned to Beacon Hills. She suspected it would be soon, since bringing her back here would've done wonders for the repairing of his conscience.

"You know, when I got shot, before I passed out... all I could see were the faces of everybody I've ever loved, platonically or not."

Jackson swallowed, frowning at her words slightly, gesturing for her to continue.

"Your name was one of the last things I said before I collapsed."

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he asked, "What else did you say?"

The brunette hesitated, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked away. "I said 'I'm sorry'," she said after a while, and he squeezed her hand, though confused about what she was apologising for. "When Chris shot you, I couldn't do anything but run at him. I thought he'd killed you, I was so s-scared of losing you."

"I can relate," the boy replied with a small hum, furrowing his brow. He looked up as he felt Grace tugging on his arm, a signal for wanting him closer to her. He hesitated, wondering if there was even enough room on the small hospital cot, but before he knew it she was scooting over as best she could to allow room for him. He slipped underneath the thin blanket before Grace pulled another knitted one over them, her head resting on his chest as she reached down, lacing her fingers with his. She was exhausted, and sleep was coming fast to her body, her eyes gently fluttering closed, Jackson's arm protectively around her with his hand in hers.

It was a nice way to drift off to sleep.

* * *

It took a while but soon, Grace was up-to-date on everything happening around Beacon Hills that she'd missed. The tablet with the video of the kanima on it had been stolen and Danny had been hospitalised overnight because of the venom paralysis. Not to mention Allison doing some wonderfully valuable research from Gerard's bestiary and finding out that the kanima did not seek a friend - it seeked a master. So that was quite unreassuring and despite Jackson being safe with her every night in the hospital (he refused to go home, which was sweet but also caused him back pains from the uncomfortable bedding). Grace woke Monday morning in her own bed - exactly one week since she'd been hospitalised.

She still wasn't healing, but for this she was glad. It was better to not walk away a few days after being thrown in hospital with injuries as extensive as hers totally healed, it would raise suspicion. And though she was sure she could control her healing rate once it came back, she wasn't sure if it would come back. Nevertheless, her stitches on her chest and stomach were healing nicely and aside from the occasional pain in her chest after too more exertion than her body could handle, she was naturally getting better quite fine.

It had been a scare for everybody, no doubt, and as soon as Stiles and Scott had gotten the news that Grace was alive they'd rushed into the hospital, both with wide, tear-ruined eyes. They'd sat with Roman and Clara and bombarded her after she'd woken up, Jackson having gone to get them both a snack and a warm drink from the cafeteria downstairs. They'd hugged her, told her to never scare them like that again. Stiles didn't think he'd be able to handle Grace dying for real - she kept him sane when doing Scott's dirty-work drove him mad.

The brunette stood in her bra and underwear, looking around for something to wear to her first day back at school, eyes settling on a pretty black-and-floral dress that reminded her of the one she'd been wearing when dead. She liked it. Just as she reached onto the small table at the end of her bed to grab it, the door cracked open and somebody slid through, not bothering to knock. As though he didn't care, Jackson sauntered in and sat on the chair beside the bed, licking his lips as he averted his eyes from Grace's tiny frame. After a moment of standing there, arms covering her chest and stomach, she cleared her throat and Jackson blinked

"What?"

"Could've knocked," she said, and he shrugged.

"What if I had been completely nude?"

"I'd have wished I'd gotten here sooner," Jackson smirked, causing Grace to turn a bright shade of beet red.

"Asshole," she murmured playfully under her breath, turning away from him as she picked up her dress. Jackson raised an eyebrow before standing up and making his way toward her, his gentle hands running down her bare arms before he stopped at her hands, holding them behind her as he leant dangerously close. His nose brushed her jawline, one hand holding both of hers and the other trailing a pattern on her waist above the old scars from Peter and Scott. "What are you doing?" Grace asked quietly, eyes fluttering closed at his touches. She'd missed this - his warm breath against her neck, sending goose-bumps over her skin. He pressed closer, persistent, and though she wanted him more than anything at the moment, she swallowed down her urges and said quietly, "You know I can't exert myself."

"We can go slow," Jackson mumbled in response, his voice gravelly.

"We have ten minutes until we have to leave for school," Grace continued, her hands still firmly placed behind her. Part of her didn't want to move them from his grip - she was quite content with allowing him to suck gently on her neck like he was because the occasional kiss for publicity with Derek Hale could never match up to the desperate pants that Jackson drew from her lips, his voice sultry and deepening with lust. Shit, she could listen to him talk when he was in the mood forever, it was such a beautiful sound.

"We can be late," the boy breathed in response, moving his lips to her shoulder.

"You have no idea how badly I want this," she sighed, leaning into his embrace.

"So what's stopping us?" he asked, genuinely serious. The weeks of not being with her was getting too much and he wanted to know why she really was trying to forget about him - ha, fat chance! They were drawn together, as opposite as the earth and moon. But if she was the moon, he was the tide, and her every move controlled him, willed him to move, told him where to go. It was her he answered to, nobody else.

Grace opened her mouth though nothing came out, and he wondered if he'd upset her. Loosening his grip on her hands he readied himself to step away, only for her to turn around and gaze at him with her eyes wide and filled with longing. "Nothing," she growled airily, stepping forward. It was her turn to take the reins, and so what if she was late for school? _Nothing_ was better than what they had in store.

XXX

They arrived at school half an hour late, Grace's hair messy and Jackson's t-shirt on backwards. The stares they got were more than embarrassing and Grace remained a lovely shade of bright pink for the remainder of the day. Scott was totally banned from seeing Stiles out of school so the two were totally attached at the hip and - unsurprisingly, the two had gone and gotten themselves a restraining order against themselves from Jackson, which Grace _really_ didn't agree too since they needed the help of the two boys. Jackson, however, still wasn't fully convinced that he was the kanima, and it drove Grace insane.

Everything going on with Stiles and Scott was infuriating Jackson and he was growing more and more irritated with each stupid question they were throwing at him. Silently, he made his way through the halls after school hours toward the locker room, one strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. From a distance, Grace followed him, having agreed with Scott that it was too risky to have Allison talk to Jackson about his parents and the kanima when he was already getting furious with everyone's questions. He just wanted to be left alone and Grace understood that more than anything, but they needed to know.

The brunette hesitated outside of a blue door, eyebrows narrowed as she heard someone walking toward it. Pulling open the door, Matt stepped out and started the sight of the doe-eyed girl, looking like a deer in headlights as her eyes settled on him. She cursed and stepped back as he did, though his expression was easygoing. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Grace, you scared the hell out of me."

She opened her mouth to come up with a lie, but ended up stuttering out, "Sorry, I was just - ah, crap. Nothing. Don't worry." Smiling warmly at him, she waited for him to move, but was caught off when he didn't.

"Hey, did you hear about the Shell? They've got this, like, rave thing happening there Friday night. Maybe you could come? And, uh, bring Allison and Lydia with you." It was nice of him to offer and Grace nodded, beaming. She liked Matt - he was a bit creepy at times, but mostly proved to be a good conversational partner for the girl. He sounded excited when she agreed and walked away with a huge smile on his face, Grace chuckling to herself before she heard a pained gasp come from behind the door Matt had just come through. Frowning, she touched a hand to the glass and pushed it open, striding in, concern on her features.

"Jackson?" she called, walking through the locker rooms as tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, swallowing. When she heard him call 'in here' in his deep voice, she hesitated before turning to corner and heading toward the running showers, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink at the thought of him in the shower. She bit the inside of her cheek, glad to see that although he was covered in water droplets, he had a towel fastened around his waist. "We need to talk.'

A look of disdain crossed his features, but he said nothing.

"I need to know what happened to your parents. Your real ones."

Before she knew it, Jackson's expression was a mixture of anger and frustration, his hands balling into fists at his side. It wasn't _him_ acting this way, it was the kanima inside of him, whoever was controlling him demanding that he get furious with anyone on the brink of finding out their secret. The brunette turned away from him, suddenly worried that angering him would bring out his kanima like it brought out her wolf. "We can talk later," she said, nodding her head as her mind screamed at her in protest._ Don't freak out, be strong! You're such a baby._ He pressed his lips onto a thin line, placing an arm against the wall beside her so quickly that she flinched. Now satisfied that he was blocking her way, Jackson leaned forward and smirked gently.

"Lets talk now," he pressed, his words sounding more like an order than anything.

"I-I... have to get to class," Grace stuttered, wondering if this was as scared as Jackson felt when he saw her phase for the first time. Trust their relationship to go sour just hours after it'd had seemed fully repaired. Karma was seriously hating on the young couple for some reason.

"No, no, no you don't," Jackson sneered, a faux-smile playing on to his features. Grace tried to remind herself that it wasn't her Jackson doing this - it was the kanimas master. All the kanimas master. "No, Grace, you have perfect grades. You can skip another class. Like this morning..." She licked her lips nervously as his hungry eyes travelled down her figure, feeling her heartbeat increase. Jackson's eyes flew back to hers. "Are you okay? Your heart's beating like crazy."

Her mouth fell open and she took a step to the side, trying to get around him. A feigned hurt expression crossed his face and he leaned closer, stopping her again. "Come on, Grace, I thought you wanted to talk. Isn't that what couples do - talk? Or are you still trying to pretend we're not a couple? You know, you haven't said 'I love you' to me in a long, long time. Not since we broke up the first time."

"I changed my mind, I don't need to talk to you - it was just about homework, you know," the brunette tried pathetically, and he began trembling with anger, hands shaking as he gritted his teeth and continued advancing on her toward the door.

"You sure?" he demanded, raising his eyebrows. "Because you look a little stressed. Is it Derek - hm? Is it that whole sham of a relationship? I can't believe you actually thought he cared about you. You gave everything we had up to be with him - for what? Protection?" He snorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You know he's eventually just going to get rid of you if he hasn't already. You're so weak, you can't even heal. What kind of werewolf wants that in his pack?"

"Jackson, stop-" Grace tried, bottom lip trembling. "You're scaring me."

"He's just going to leave you. Something I'd never do - and if you don't realise that, you've got to be the stupidest bitch in this town." He continued as though he hadn't heard her, speaking with a harsh tone.

"Stop! Just stop!" she yelled, balling her hands into fists in fear.

"What are you going to do, Grace?" he screamed, stepping forward again. "You can't even heal yourself! It's pathetic!"

_The kanima_, Grace reminded herself, a hand raising to cover her mouth. _The kanima, the kanima..._ She bit down on bottom lip, tears welling in her eyes. "You cry over _literally_ everything!" he continued, voice raised. She flinched and tasted blood in her mouth. She felt weak, vulnerable, something she'd never expected to feel in Jackson's presence. "What are you going to do," he asked again, shaking with fury. "when your stupid, psycho-alpha boyfriend turns on you?" He backed her against a wall, face just inches from hers. "He tried to kill Lydia, who do you think's going to be next? The weak _bitch_ in his pack when he doesn't need her anymore?"

She was shaking with fear, her emotions heightened. Jackson feigned a wide-eyed, sad expression. "Not you, baby," he said softly, reaching up to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "Never you - because you're the hand-picked special snowflake that Derek wanted to root and get to mommy his baby werewolves. Is that what you tell yourself? Derek needs you like you need him to play happy families? He won't replace you as soon as he can? If that's what you believe, then you're already _dead_." His fingernails turned to claws and he ran them down her cheek softly, the sharp prick leaving a hot tingling over her skin. "I just hope he's taught you some moves so you can protect yourself."

"He has," she whispered, suddenly reaching up and grabbing his arm, pushing him away with all the force she could muster. He stumbled back and she sent a kick to his stomach, injuries protesting against the movement though it got her away. He landed on the floor, towel almost falling away from his mid-section. As though wakened from a dream, Jackson glanced around, eyes widening as he saw Grace trembling in the corner with tears in her eyes.

"Grace?" he asked, standing quickly. "What are you doing here?" He made a move to walk toward her but she flinched, shaking her head.

"Don't come any closer," she whispered. "Don't touch me."

It was then Scott flew in, running right at Jackson without hesitation as he shoved him into the lockers, anger radiating from him. He'd heard Grace's heart-beat from a mile away, fast and scared. Jackson stood, suddenly lost in the yellow eyes of the kanima as he lunged forward at Scott and shoved him into the hallway, where Erica and Stiles were. The bathroom was completely destroyed amongst the chaos and Mr Harris could hear all their commotion from down the hall, strutting up and demanding to know what was going on. Erica held Jackson tightly while Scott was in Stiles' arms, Grace suddenly finding Allison at her side, the girl grabbing her hand comfortingly and giving a gentle squeeze. "All of you can attend detention at three-o-clock," the biology teacher snapped, pointing to them with the iPad Matt had handed over.

Grace's mouth fell open, as did everyone's. Stiles wanted to argue against it but it seemed worthless, as the teacher glared at him for opening his mouth. He stalked off, angered with the damage that had been done to the locker room - it would take hundreds of dollars to fix that and Finstock wouldn't be happy, either. Jackson stepped out of Erica's grip toward Grace, but she moved away, unable to look at him as she walked down the hall. She was trying to remind herself that it hadn't been him saying those things - but now, it wasn't just herself thinking things like that, it was whomever had infiltrated her ex-boyfriend's mind.

And that hurt.


	10. I'll Bleed Out For You

**A/N: I'm sorry for being away so long! Admittedly, I lost my muse for this story for a while. But now, I'm sitting down and forcing myself to update. I'm going through withdrawals, much like a reviewer said! I hope you enjoy, and any feedback is really greatly appreciated. Really, I don't bite!**

**For those who might not yet understand - Grace (/cough/rightfully/cough) blames herself for Jackson being the kanima and her being unable to save him. It was why they ended in the first place, so she could protect him and save him, but it's all kind of backfired. That and the mixture of Jackson's other past as created her worst nightmare. /sobs/**

**Anyways - would any of you follow a tumblr if I made one for this story? I'd post music that's relevant, playlists, graphics, manips, all that kind of stuff. I have a lot of time to waste and I thought it'd be a cool way to interact with the tumblr using followers of this story! Thoughts? PM me!**

**AngelChick1432: **I hope the thing with Peter wasn't TOO out there. I had a lot of fun writing it, to be honest! It was... different. And I'd really love for Grace and Peter to have some form of mutual respect for each other if not a friendship.

**Molly-Dice:** It wasn't too much in one chapter, was it? I always worry about that. :(

**Hills22:** I'm going through withdrawals too. Thanks for reviewing!

**madziulao93:** Your English is wonderful, my dear! Thank you SO MUCH for your compliment and your review!

**EDIT: I don't know why, but my line breaks aren't working. Going back to good, ol' fashion XXXX.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN:**

**I'LL BLEED OUT FOR YOU**

* * *

Before she had to go to detention, Grace's next step was confronting Derek Hale.

Grace would admit that she really, really didn't want to do this. She didn't want to see him, but whether she liked it or not, Derek was her alpha and he owed her a god-damn explanation as to why she was _dead_. The brunette pressed her lips together and gripped the steering-wheel of her car, no other vehicles on the dirt road that would soon lead her to the abandoned Hale house. Part of her was worried about what Derek would say to her. She still wasn't healing, which was a terrible worry to her and the packmates that had visited her over her week long stay in the hospital. Isaac hadn't known what to say, casting his blue eyes downward. Erica... she'd been quiet, unsure of how to act around Grace. And Boyd - well, he never talked, but the boy found himself talking non-stop to Grace in her hospital room.

She'd bonded quite a lot with the newest beta, finding that she was proud to have him in the same pack as her. Boyd wasn't the most talkative, but he was passionate and intelligent, something that Grace had always loved in a conversational partner. She wondered if he'd be down at the house today - would anyone be there? She wasn't sure what was going on in the pack as of late, since she'd not really been involved. The girl puffed her cheeks and blew air from her lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was too tired for this, too worried about what Derek would say to her...

Before she knew it, she was pulling up beside the half burnt Hale house and stepping out of her car, burying her hands deep into her coat pockets and walking toward the front door. Her stomach seemed to writhe beneath her flesh, making her feel sick and nervous. With bandages still adorning her abdomen and chest, she looked quite a mess. Grace sighed, didn't bother knocking on the door, and stepped into the Hale house, trying to focus her hearing and smell on working out who was - or wasn't - here. Nothing really smelt different from the last time she was here. Her perfume still lingered gently in the air, mixed with the sweat of the various males that trained here. Erica's strawberry shampoo teased her nostrils.

Downstairs. Grace furrowed her eyebrows, licking her lips as she found the staircase leading downstairs to the basement. Derek still slept here, despite now finding sanctuary in the abandoned subway tracks a few miles from here. Often, the betas would visit the Hale house to just hang out with Derek, though he wasn't much fun. She nudged open the basement door and started down the stairs, hearing Derek and a few others. Their conversations stopped, and she almost smirked at the sudden smell of fear that engulfed her nostrils. "She's here," Isaac murmured, and Derek swallowed thickly. It was within reason for him to be scared - even if she wasn't healing, the girl had a wrath with her words that'd send any man whimpering in the corner.

"Glad you noticed, Isaac," Grace said, crossing her arms over her chest, walking into the sightline of the alpha and three betas. The brunette's narrowed eyes landed on Derek, and she lifted her chin. "Miss me?" she asked, and the look on his face was indescribable. It was a mixture of guilt and anger, perhaps because he'd abandoned her and she'd waltzed back in ready for a screaming match. She didn't want one, though - fighting was the last thing she needed, and especially in her state. The brunette licked her lips and glanced away from the alpha,

She wasn't sure what to do, now. She'd come here with a plan, a plan to confront Derek and ask him why he'd done what he had. But something told her that Derek didn't really know why he left her, didn't visit her, didn't even try to save her. The alpha glanced away and swallowed thickly, his thick eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I didn't come for an apology," Grace finally stated, and he looked up, confused. His mind was racing, because really, he'd been putting this off for quite a while. He didn't know why he left her. Maybe he was just rubbish at sorting his priorities, or maybe he was a bad alpha. It was the panic, the panic that she'd die in his arms or he wouldn't be able to save her, or someone else would die. It was the nagging feeling in his chest that told him to go back for her, it scared him.

When he really thought about it, Derek knew exactly why he left Grace despite still hearing her weakened heartbeat in his ears. He was scared.

Derek had definitely had enough people die in his life before, and he'd disappointed Grace just hours before she'd been killed - well, killed and then resurrected (and Derek still didn't know how she managed it). How was it possible for the alpha to hold the betas bleeding body, watch the life drain so slowly from her eyes and fill with the disappointing, 'you killed me' kind of look. He was utterly terrified of seeing that, seeing that it was him, in the end, that killed her. Not Chris's bullet and her nonhealing wounds, but him. Because he was weak, and he'd made her one of her pack only to let her die.

From the other side of the room, Isaac looking uncomfortably between them, Grace stared at Derek. It was almost like she knew what he was thinking and how his mind was working - she was the same with Jackson. Being around him when his inner kanima scared her, because she couldn't stop it. Perhaps it was the reason she'd reacted to Jackson's - no, the kanima's - words. The kanima's legend was that it's past was supposed to be resolved for it to turn into what it was really supposed to be - a wolf. And then, the brunette replayed the moments in her mind since she'd first met Jackson. Their break-ups, their time together, when they made love.

And really, it hurt.

Because even when they'd made love just a few days after her getting out of the hospital (which wasn't wise and hurt a little because of her injuries) Grace couldn't bring Jackson back. Even when things were seeming good, and he returned the ring, and things seemed okay... Grace couldn't win. It was like looking on at her all her past failures, seeing the kanima.

There was a moment of heavy silence between the three of them until after a while, Derek spoke. His voice was softer than usual and he was embarrassed to have Isaac hear that side of him, but he forced the words out nevertheless. "Are you going to leave the pack?" He almost sounded worried. A small smile flickered across Grace's lips.

"I thought about it," she admitted, wringing her hands and glancing down. "A beta pack with Scott and my brother wouldn't be so bad." She almost snorted at how hard it'd be, having Roman rarely there and Scott obsessing over Allison. The brunette shrugged, scuffed her shoes against the concrete floor a few times before adding, "I won't leave, Derek." She really meant it - after everything, she wouldn't abandon her alpha or fellow betas. They were just about the last bit of sanity that Grace had, and she'd be damned if she let that go.

* * *

Meeting with Derek for the first time since being shot and dying had terrified Grace, but she'd powered through it. It hadn't been that bad. But to say that she was scared of detention with Stiles, Scott, Matt, Erica and Jackson was an understatement - a massive one. Walking through those emptied halls toward the library had her heart beating fast, a hard throbbing coming from behind her eyes. Her pulse was rising, and she felt as though she was walking to her grave. She pursed her lips and squared her shoulders, walking as quickly as she could manage with her side on fire and her mind occupied with the day's previous events, which unfortunately for her, wasn't fast at all.

She was the last of the fivesome to reluctantly file into the library, and when she arrived, her friends were scattered around the room in many different seats. The brunette avoided all eye-contact though the glances burned her skin and made her feel rather self-conscious as she pulled out a chair that was on a different desk to everyone else, sliding into the chair quickly and quietly. She took in a deep breath and pulled an older copy of her favorite paperback book - "The Book Thief", written by Marcus Zusak. It was easily one of Grace's older books and, as she read through again, she couldn't help but notice some similarities between herself and Leisel, the main protagonist of the story - and even some similarities between Jackson and Rudy. Some.

Grace swallowed a lump in her throat, wishing that she was just able to read like a normal person instead of digging through and deciphering everything that seemed slightly relevant in her life. The words took her back not only to her relationship with Jackson, but everything she'd felt with him - especially when she'd been trying so hard a few months ago to not fall for him again._ 'He does something to me, that boy, every time,'_ the book read, words black as night standing out harshly against the yellowed page._ 'It's his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.'_

Soon, Grace found herself slamming the book closed. She'd only been reading for a few minutes, but line after line made her teary-eyed and she realised that she was sitting there, shaking harshly as both her friends and Mr Harris stared at her. The bored-looking teacher rose an eyebrow, looking as though he really couldn't be bothered dealing with the mental breakdown of a student. Papers to grade, people to scold. "Is everything alright, Ms Hart?" the man asked, though his flat tone and slight glare told Grace that Mr Harris couldn't have cared if she was dying. Well, she had died. And he was still an asshole.

"Fine, sir," the brunette mumbled, ducking her head and flushing red. The eyes on her made her nervous, and she ignored everyone.

It was so out of character for her to be sitting there with her back to everyone; to Stiles, Scott and Jackson especially. But she was shaken, and the kanima's words falling from Jackson's lips still put her on edge. How was she supposed to get them out of her head? It was frustrating for Grace, who usually felt so in control of her own emotions and actions. Mr Harris ended up leaving after moving Scott and Stiles away from a quite irritated Jackson - was it Grace ignoring his pleading glances that made him angered? She hoped not. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him... that was why she'd done everything she had, why she'd made every single move, took every single fighting breath.

She still managed to hurt him anyway.

"I'm going to kill him," Scott hissed, and he argued with Stiles back and forth about the murder of Jackson. Grace knew he was just being protective, but it made her blood boil, the thought of her best friends murdering her... well, whatever Jackson was. She was pretty sure he wasn't her boyfriend anymore, even though they'd had sex and made out quite a lot since her return from the dead. And the cuddling on the bed... the ring... Grace winced, not wanting to think about it. She missed it, honestly, and it tugged at her heart horridly.

After a moment of silence, Stiles' voice flickered through the silence and Grace's head shot up. "Hey, what if it's Matt?" he asked, and her head whipped around. Leaving her things at her table, Grace stood, ignored her pain and hurried over, sliding into the chair beside Scott, who frowned at her.

"What, you're talking to us now?"

That made her feel guilty. She bit her lip, shot both the boys an apologetic look before mumbling, "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do."

"Silence won't help you," Stiles sniffed, and Grace frowned.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Forget it," Scott interrupted, and she was grateful despite the slightly venomous tone. Stiles nodded, though he, too, seemed unhappy that whatever was going on between the three of them wasn't being solved right now. It would definitely make for some awkwardness in the near future, and Grace hated that.

"This whole thing comes back to the video, right?" Stiles continued, glancing over at Matt, who was shoving crisps down his throat. Scott leaned his chin on his folded arms, furrowing his brow in thought.

"Huh, Danny said that Matt was the one that found out the footage was missing," he whispered, and Grace stared at the otherwise innocent looking male across the room, eyes narrowed. He had been there when Jackson had half-turned into the kanima in the locker rooms, but maybe it had been a coincidence - there were so many of these in Beacon Hills that Grace couldn't pick coincidences from clues anymore. She sighed. "So he makes Jackson kill Isaac's dad, a hunter, and a mechanic working on your jeep?" Scott demanded, and Stiles nodded. "Why?"

"Because he's..." the boy searched for an explanation, but found nothing except for one word. "Evil."

Matt glanced over, raising his eyebrows at the whispering three. Grace glanced away quickly, licking her lips nervously. "You just don't like him," Scott said, and the brunette had to agree that there was something off about the kid.

"I don't, either," she said quietly. Stiles almost didn't hear her words, though he was glad she backed up him. "The guy's fishy looking... I can't pick what it is."

"Yeah, just look at his face," Stiles murmured, and the three turned to see the boy offer Jackson some chips, which he stared at blankly as if to ask Matt if he was completely stupid. Mr Harris returned and sat behind his desk, eyeing the whispering group but saying nothing as his eyes flickered to Jackson, who was clutching his head and wincing in pain. He stood, eyes closing tightly as his slender fingers hovered over his forehead.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked, and Jackson hastily muttered something about wanting to go to the bathroom. Mr Harris tried to protest, but Jackson glared at him.

"I'm just going to get some water," he snapped, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Once both Harris and Jackson left, Stiles, Scott and Grace rushed over to Erica's table and demanded to know about Jackson's parents, who had apparently died in a car accident. The girl said something about her father being the investigator, and Jackson getting a huge amount of money at eighteen. With a smirk, the blonde teasingly glanced at Grace and licked her lips. "Your boyfriends loaded," she said, chuckling. Grace frowned, but had no time to protest before an overhead voice - Allison's mother - interrupted.

"Scott McCall, please report to the principal's office."

The four of them exchanged worried looks, Scott's mouth hanging open in surprise. They were in for a long, long hour of detention... and it seemed like Scott was getting the brunt of it. Erica brought up the accident report for Jackson's parent's death and scrolled through it with Stiles, reading aloud. There was only one bit that caught Grace's attention. "'Passengers arrived at the hospital DOA, the estimated time of death, 9:26 PM June fourteenth, 1995."

Both the blonde wolf and Stiles looked up at Grace, who they had noticed was staring and frowning. "Jackson's birthday is June fifteenth."

* * *

Book stacking had been completely uneventful, really.

Grace had broken away from the group and let Erica, Stiles and Scott do their sleuthing while she also steered clear of Jackson, making sure he didn't make eye contact with her. She could hear his heart - it was erratically fast, and Matt's concerned voice filtered in and out of her mind as Jackson struggled to control the speed of his breathing. It was when a book was thrown to the ground and a strangled sound fell from Matt's lips that Grace knew.

* * *

The kanima was here.

He jumped along the top of the shelves and hit lights with his tail, sending sparks raining over the three werewolves, Stiles and a paralysed Matt. Grace and Erica immediately wolfed out along with Scott, but Grace couldn't feel that familiar sense of power and control rushing through her veins. Instead, she felt scared. Not for her - she'd be fine, she always was... but for Jackson. He didn't deserve this - not really. She found that she was terrified that the only way out was to kill him, that there was no way to reverse what was happening to him. All around her, Grace's world was crashing. The first pillar had fallen - no longer did she believe that she possessed the power to save the people she loved. The second was in the midst of falling, crashing slowly to the ground before shattering; that pillar was Jackson, her love for him. His love for her, his safety. It was shattering around her.

How long until the third, fourth and final pillars of her world collapsed? It scared her, thinking about how long she had left with her family before they, too, left in one way... her friends, before Stiles and Scott and everyone else saw sense and abandoned her... her pack. Her pack would leave soon, too, because she was weak and her world was gone and there was not a goddamn thing she could do about it. Grace breathed in sharply as Erica fell to the ground, Jackson's tail whipping out of sight. Soon, the one she loved was standing right before Scott, shoving him backwards harshly, half-Jackson and half-Kanima. Grace stepped forward, her eyes wide and pleading as Stiles and Scott stood behind her.

Her chin was trembling furiously, tiny dimples appearing as she tried not to cry. Looking at him was hard, especially when the harsh, yellow-slitted eyes were fixated menacingly on her. "Jackson, please," Grace begged, panting where she stood. Her muscles were tensed, her sides and chest burned with every heave of air she took into her lungs, which, in turn, scalded her insides like boiling water inside of her. Her mind raced, her fingers shook as she lifted her hand, reaching out to him.

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

His clawed hands reached out, nicking her skin as he shoved her backwards so harshly that she fell straight away, a small breath of air and noise of surprise falling from her lips as she tumbled backwards into an overturned table, feeling it connect with her spine and upper back, sending pain through her as her head smacked against it next. The wind was knocked out of her and, even if she hadn't been forced backwards, she'd still be struggling for breath, because she couldn't help him and that hurt more than the blood leaking from her busted stitches. Her heart ached for him, because she needed him to come back. She needed her Jackson.

She could feel the paralysis spreading through her already, small spots of blood scattered across the exposed skin of her chest from where he'd gotten her with his claws. Rigid and robotic, Jackson grabbed a piece of chalk and started drawing on the board, the lights flickering overhead and the sparks still flying everywhere. He moved awkwardly and his body jolted as he scrawled words on the board in white, reading: "Stay out of my way or I'll kill all of you" in all capital letters. With that, Jackson leaped from the ground and out of the highest window, leaving Erica, Matt and Grace paralysed with Stiles and Scott standing, their mouths agape. Grace's chest hurt - but not from her injuries. It hurt because of him, because of how much she needed him to be okay.

It was like Death himself had taken Grace's hand and led her to her own grave, her rotting body beneath the surface and all.


	11. Falling From High Places

**A/N: Sorry for the mini-hiatus there. Needed some time to get my muse back. But thanks everyone for your constant support and to the two people that reviewed chapter 10! Please keep the reviews coming, it makes writing this story a lot easier. As for this chapter, there are only two scenes, but I really hope you like it. I've been planning the first for quite a while.**

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN:**

**FALLING FROM HIGH PLACES**

* * *

_A shaky camera takes a few seconds to still and focus on a brunette girl, who is trying not to smile as she rolls her wide, dark eyes gently. Her hair flies in the gentle breeze and a tentative hand of hers reaches to brush it behind her ear, a scarf wrapped around her neck. A deep, male voice from out of the frame captures her attention, and she looks slightly above the camera to the source. "It's rolling," he says, voice deep and warm to the female, and the brunette girl gives a snort of amusement before retorting._

_"Well, duh," she responds, laughing lightly. She points in the direction of the camera, still focused on her. "The red light is on, dumbass." She says the curse with ease, as though she's used to vulgar words. _

_"Shut up, Grace – Angel," comes the reply from the male, the hastily corrected name at the end of his sentence. But there is no malice in his tone, either. Instead, he chuckles a little and finally, he appears in the shot of the camera beside the girl. He looks unorganized and slightly flustered, cheeks red from the slightly cold breeze. Grace's – or Angel's – eyes linger on him a moment, but flicker away with something that looks a bit like guilt. The male clears his throat, opening his mouth to say something though he ends up just doubling over in laughter. His embarrassment is amusing, and Grace laughs, tilting her head back, her hands grasping together. She thinks he's an idiot, but he's definitely a cute one._

Grace watched, swallowing thickly, arms wrapped around her knees. It was their trailer – the one they'd been asked to do in media by Mr. Roberts, who had been kind of creepy but had given the two teens a really good mark, one that she didn't quite feel like she deserved. Then again, she had loved their trailer. Perhaps it was because Jackson was in it, and she really did love what they'd captured of each other. Licking her lips, Grace tugged her blanket further around her. She was in her queen bed, which now seemed so much bigger than it used to, curled into a ball with her laptop before her, their trailer on a disk playing, sending her mind into overdrive.

_The scene switches to a montage of a small town – Beacon Hills. The opening notes of _Keep Your Head Up_ by Ben Howard plays and just as the singing begins, a small home is focused on. It's old, Victorian looking and large, the mahogany door slowly creeping up as the camera zooms. Inside, a woman, her name Angel, sits on her couch, her knees to her chest and a bag of crisps beside her on the large couch as she watches terrible re-runs of _America's Next Top Model._ Her dark brown hair is pulled up into a loose bun, wavy tendrils falling around her face. When did she last shower? She can't remember. Her eyes are focused on the pretty girls before her, her breathing loud and heavy. A knock interrupts her, and she frowns deeply._

_For Angel, visitors are unlikely. She's twenty years old, breast-cancer ridden and friendless. She's lived with her mother since being diagnosed with stage IV cancer, but the older woman's at work. It's difficult for Angel's mother to look at her frail daughter, who has just months to live. Angel had said no to chemotherapy. She'd die anyway, what was the point? Licking her lips free of crumbs, the brunette stands and takes a moment to gather her spinning head before padding bare-footed to the door. She pulls it open, stomach plummeting at who she sees. The music stops. "What the fuck?"_

_The male standing at her door blinks in surprise. He's twenty, too, and very well dressed. An old love of Angel's. A small smile teases his lips. "Hi, Angel."_

_"What the hell are you doing here, Tristan?" the brunette demands, obviously displeased. She ignores the bout of pain in her chest at her sudden temper rise and glares as harshly as she can at the male. He seems careless to her horrid appearance, though his eyes have certainly travelled down her thin frame to take it all in. He shrugs.._

_"I came to see you. It's been a while."_

_"A while?" Angel cries, voice high-pitched in surprise. "It's been four fucking years!"_

_Tristan shoots her his award-winning smile. "Then I guess we have a lot to catch up on."_

Grace had to laugh at their acting. They weren't exactly Leo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, and it was quite amusing. Nevertheless, the girl had a few tears in her eyes, and she reached up a shaking hand to wipe one away. She missed him, was that so bad? She'd had a few moments of peace where she'd allowed herself to slip up, to have Jackson just one more time before she realized that he was the kanima and she was making things worse. How could she do that to him, give him false hope only to knock him down again? She wanted to fix him, but she didn't know how, and it hurt her so badly. She'd heard that the kanima was so because of traumatic past experiences – was that her fault, too? The brunette sighed deeply.

She couldn't get away from it – the accusation that followed her everywhere she went. It was in her own heart, in everyone else's eyes. Her mother wasn't the same, Roman was barely home anymore, and her father was dead. Her father was dead because she'd killed him. Peter Hale was well on his way to being not-dead, and Grace wasn't sure how she felt about that, either, though she had a sort of respect for the man despite how crazy he was. Swallowing a thick lump in her throat, Grace tried to focus on her little movie, though her mind was elsewhere.

_Angel isn't happy at all with Tristan, but she's packing her bags and leaving her mother a note as though he's the king and she obeys every order he gives. The unsureness can be seen on her face as she studies her various bottles of pills before tossing them in her bag. "I can't believe I agreed to this," she mumbles to herself, before the scene switches to a fancy looking car speeding down a deserted road in the middle of nowhere._

_Tristan looks over at the brunette from the driver's seat, smiling a little. "I'm glad you agreed to come," he says, happy. Angel bites back a smile of her own, but it's ghosting her face._

_"Yeah, well, you're paying, so I may as well," she retorts, and a chuckle leaves Tristan's throat. A fun sounding song begins to play – Mike Del Rio's _Feel Good_, which sounds as the next montage begins. Angel and Tristan in many different places. There's carnivals, the seashore, forests, major cities, farms. Everywhere he goes, Tristan takes a hand-held camcorder and gets Angel on tape. There's a noticeable change throughout the montage in Angel as she appears to grow sicker, but Tristan's either ignoring it genuinely not noticing her paling complexion and tired eyes. She still laughs though, dancing close with him at a small-town music festival. She's not sure what town they're in anymore, because they've been driving for days and days and days and they're so far from home they're not even in the same country anymore._

_Angel's head is on Tristan's chest. The music slows and gradually fades to _Dreaming My Life Away_ by Best Coast. They sway to the music gently, the countrified night sky above them, twinkling stars blinking in surprise at the unlikeliness of the couple. Tristan was the one that broke her heart, and Angel was the one stupid enough to believe his apology. But she's having a good time, and she think she might love him again. She lifts her head, bags underneath her eyes, but a smile on her plump lips. Her freckled nose wrinkles a little as she chuckles. "Never thought I'd be here with you," she admits, and Tristan laughs._

_"I always knew I'd be here with you," he says, and Angel's eyebrows furrow. She doesn't have a moment to speak before his lips are pressed softly to hers. For a moment, the woman allows herself this pleasure of once again kissing Tristan Hardwick, but she soon pushes away. She's dying, he doesn't need that. She leaves, heading back to their shared hotel room and leaving him standing here, confused._

_The next scene, Angel is weak and in a hospital bed, an IV in her arm and various tubes tangling around her, holding her down to her prison of beeping machines and white-uniformed men and women. She hates hospitals, but she's not awake to voice her distaste. Tristan is solemn, sitting at the edge of her bed with his hands clasped beneath his chin, leaning his elbows on his knees. He's angry, because she didn't tell him, because they're in the middle of nowhere at a hospital that he can't remember the name of and she's dying. A soft piano piece places in the background, and Tristan stares. Draws in a deep breath. He's tired, fighting to not snap. "I'm sorry, Angel," he says quietly. Her fate is left undecided by the viewer as the scene changes once again._

_The next scene opens with One Republic's _Life In Color_, Angel laughing into the shot from the handheld, shaky camera. Her hair is flying around her face, her grin is wide and friendly. She feels happy. Tristan turns the technology so that he's in the shot, too, and his arm snakes around Angel's shoulders. He presses a kiss to her cheek, and she blushes. The shots change quickly to short videos they've taken of each other doing memorable things – Tristan riding a mechanical bull, Angel with straws hanging from her nostrils, both of them jumping off a small cliff overlooking a lake, the camera set up on a nearby rock. The shots continue to change quickly until finally, the music fades. The steady beeping of Angel's life support picks up in alarm before completely going dead as the scenes stop changing and a black screen shows, the shrill, continuous beep almost overpowering the one word Tristan mutters, voice cracking. "Angel?"_

* * *

By the time their trailer was over, Grace was in tears. She wasn't sure why – it wasn't real, this wasn't her and Jackson at all. Neither of them were going to die so long as she could help it. But she felt helpless, alone. She needed things to be the way they were when she and Jackson could be together without all this rubbish, the way they were after her dad was gone and Peter was gone and Derek wasn't trying to turn her into the mother of his pack babies. She hugged a pillow to her chest, her breathing becoming heavier by the second. Her chest rose and fell with every pathetic wail and the bandages that adorned her still unhealing wounds seemed to weigh a tonne. She was tired, she missed her old life.

Hadn't things been so much easier before she was a wolf? She still recalled the night she'd first kissed Jackson – when Peter had been in the high school and Grace had risked her life to make sure Scott was okay. She'd never forget that, in all honesty. She wondered what would have happened if she hadn't gone to help Scott, if she hadn't been bitten or kissed Jackson. Would things still be the same? She frowned, her thoughts interrupted by a text message from Derek as her phone beeped loudly. "**_Need u at Deaton's now, coming to pick u up"_** it read in Derek's horrid text talk. The brunette didn't complain or message back, but wondered why she was needed at that moment.

Tugging on her black high-waist skinny jeans and a trench coat with heeled boots, Grace called a goodbye to her mother and headed downstairs, Derek sure enough pulling into the driveway just as she closed the door. It wasn't unusual for Derek to randomly text her when things went pear-shaped, but Grace couldn't help but worry a little as she slid into the backseat. Derek didn't say anything, but Isaac shot her a small smile in greeting. "Is he stressed out over something?" Grace asked, and Isaac gave a small nod as they pulled into the car-park at Deaton's office. "Is anyone going to actually tell me what's going on?" Grace asked as they walked to the door, cocking her head to the side. She tucked a curl behind her ear, raising her eyebrows at the lack of responses before she mumbled a crude name underneath her breath.

"What is he doing here?" Scott asked, unlocking and pushing open the door for the three wolves. Grace glanced at Isaac, who appeared nonchalant to the accusing voice.

"Because I need him," Derek snapped, walking inside with his head held high. Grace followed the two boys, rolling her eyes at them.

"I don't trust him," was Scott's reply. Isaac wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah, well 'he' doesn't trust you either."

"Come on guys, can't you be civil for one minute? Scott, it's Isaac," Grace tried, as though he was the most innocent thing in the world. He was like a little puppy dog, even if he was part of Derek's pack and had tried to kill Jackson – and Lydia. "If he stuffs up, I'll keep him in line."

Scott snorted, opening his mouth though Derek cut them off. "Derek really doesn't care!" he snapped, and Grace sneered at him. "Now where's the vet? Is he going to help us or not?"

Deaton appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded over his broad chest, a frown on his features. It was clear he wasn't entirely happy about Derek being so crude. "That depends. Are we planning to kill him, or save him?" he asked, raising his brows.

Of course, the alpha said 'kill him' at the same time that Scott and Grace stated that they were to 'save him'. This ended up in the tiny, freckled brunette rounding on Derek and glaring at him so fiercely he almost burst into flames. "Save him!" she shouted, clenching her fists. The man almost looked like he wanted to protest, staring at Grace for a long time before pressing his lips into a hard, thin line as he turned back to Deaton, knowing his place fully well when it came to Grace and Jackson. She'd do anything to save him, and Derek would be torn apart if he got in the way of that, he knew that much.

Deaton led them into the operating room, where he placed on the table a spice-rack which, evidently, was not filled with spices, but various supernatural cocktails in small jars. Isaac reached out to grab one, but Grace tugged his hand back and shook her head in warning – Deaton's collection was dangerous, she knew that. He was a man that held not only answers, but the most lethal things known to werewolves. The boy tuned his attention to Deaton, curiosity and a smidge of nastiness crossing his features. "What are you, some kind of witch?"

"No," Deaton said, obviously. "I'm a veterinarian." Isaac nodded and glanced at Grace, who smirked at him. The man placed a small glass jar back in the rack, sighing. "Unfortunately, I don't see anything here that's going to be a good defense against a paralytic toxin."

"What about a defensive offence?" Isaac asked, and Derek shook his head.

"No, I almost took his head off, and Argent emptied a whole freaking round into him. He just gets back up."

"Has it shown any signs of weakness at all?" Deaton asked, and the group shook their heads – all but Derek, who dropped that it was afraid of water. "Does that go for Jackson, too?"

"No," Grace said immediately, swallowing. "He's captain of the swim team."

"Essentially, you're trying to catch two people." Deaton spun around, searching through more cupboards and shelves for a while before returning with a coin-like piece in his hands. "A puppet," he said, flashing it to Scott. "And a puppeteer." He placed the coin down on the table. "One killed the father, but the other had to kill the wife," he said, referring to the most recent murders of a pregnant woman and her husband, who had been living out in the forest for quite a while. Scott shook his head, but Grace spoke.

"Jackson wouldn't be able to do that," she said softly. "His mother died pregnant."

"How do you know it's not part of the rules?" Isaac asked, one eyebrow raised. "The kanima kills murderers. If Jackson kills the wife, then the baby dies too."

There was a moment of silence before Scott asked Isaac, "Does that mean your father was a murderer?"

Isaac shrugged. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was."

"What if the fear of water isn't coming from Jackson, but the person controlling him?" Deaton asked suddenly, eyes wide as though he was on to something. And he very well might have been. Grace swallowed, glancing around at her company, hoping that one of them could spark something. They needed to know who was controlling Jackson, and they needed him dead. "What if something that effects the kanima," he began, sprinkling mountain ash around the coin on the table, "effects the master?"

"Meaning we can catch them," Grace piped up, staring intently at the vet. "Both of them."

The man smiled, a plan devising in his mind.


	12. We Must Be Killers

**A/N: Once again, sorry for my absence. Not a lot of Jackson/Grace in this chapter but I hope to make up for it soon. Thank you for your continued support, please remember to review! **

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE:**

**WE MUST BE KILLERS**

* * *

"We need to find a way to get into that rave," Scott murmured, hand reaching up to slip his bag strap over his shoulder. With Grace and Stiles beside him, both stepping out of the jeep, the omega wore a confused expression, his heart thudding. He was angry for the most part – how were they supposed to stop Jackson – or Jackson's "master" – when they couldn't figure out who the hell was controlling him, or who his next victim was? Grace furrowed her eyebrows, something suddenly clicking in her memory.

"Matt," she said, eyes falling on the boy who was doing up his bike lock. Scott frowned. He'd already tried that. "He asked me if I wanted to go with him to the rave. Said I should bring Allison, too." She was in – she could do it, couldn't she? So she wasn't healing so well and had an emotional tether to Jackson, but she knew she'd be able to do it. Hell, she'd practically gotten Jackson into this situation anyway… It was her fault, somehow. "I can go, I can stop him."

Scott seemed unconvinced as he gave her a sceptical look and beside her, Stiles snorted, locking the jeep's doors. The two boys shook their heads, stating "No" firmly at the same time. Grace screwed her face up in annoyance.

"I can do it," she argued. "This is my fault."

"Your fault?" Stiles demanded, turning to her. "How the hell is this your fault? Grace – stop being so freaking ridiculous."

"The kanima is what it is because of issues in it's past. If you haven't noticed, Jackson and I didn't exactly have a peachy freaking relationship." The brunette was growing annoyed, though deep inside she understood where her friends were coming from. Allison would say the same, too. The two girls had grown close over the past few weeks, especially with all the time Grace had spent in the hospital. Allison had visited every few days after school, sometimes even with Lydia. "We've got no other choice," Grace continued, shoving the thoughts of doubt from her mind. The boy's remained firm in their answer.

"No."

"You're not my keepers!" she said, just as Matt stood and locked eyes with the trio. He smiled widely at Grace, then allowed the grin to slip from his features as his eyes settled on Stiles and Scott. He approached them, slinging his bag over one shoulder. Grace smiled at him, genuine and friendly. "Hey, Matt," she greeted. She liked the guy – he could be a douche sometimes, but he had always been nice to her.

"Morning, Grace," the boy smiled, "Do you know why nobody was suspended after what happened in the library the other day?" he asked, and the memory made Grace wince and look away. Matt eyed her curiously, but said nothing. Stiles saw the reaction from the brunette and became defensive.

"Just forget about it, nobody got hurt," he said, tone sharp and almost assertive. Grace frowned, as did Matt at the harsh words.

"I was paralysed, and Matt had a concussion," Grace said quietly, avoiding all eyes as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Well nobody was _seriously_ hurt," came Stiles' reply as he rolled his eyes.

"I was in the ER for six hours!" Matt protested, becoming irritated as his frown deepened. Stiles sighed deeply, clenching his jaw.

"Hey, do you want to know the truth, Matt?" he asked, readjusting his bag and squatting at the knee, open palm hovering inches over the concrete footpath as he glared up at the other teen. "Your little bump on the head is about _this high_ on our list of problems right now!"

Grace's mouth fell open and she reached out, whacking Stiles over the head. Truthfully, she was embarrassed about his behaviour. Grabbing his ear, she lifted him back up and gave Matt an apologetic look. "Are you feeling okay now?" the brunette asked, and Matt nodded, a faint smile reappearing on his lips as he nodded.

"Yeah, thanks." He turned to Scott. "I'm sorry you didn't get any tickets last night, too. I found my three online, so keep looking," Matt advised with another nod of his head. With that, the teen smiled at Scott and Grace and turned to leave, heading toward the main school building. Stiles glowered at Grace, but he knew what his slap was for and said nothing, instead burying his hands deep in his jacked pockets and closing his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line as they headed toward their next afternoon classes.

**XXX**

"We can't let Grace go on her own," Stiles hissed at Danny, who looked at them wide-eyed. He didn't want to give up his tickets – they were for him and Roman – but if Grace was going to be there with… well, whatever it was that was killing people, he thought that he should probably allow her 'keepers' to go, too. He still hadn't been fully informed regarding the goings on around Beacon Hills and the supernatural beings that haunted the streets, but he knew enough to know that Grace wasn't okay and letting her go to that rave alone was a big mistake.

He opened his mouth to finally give in to giving the Stilinski boy and Scott the tickets, but Isaac interrupted him, shoving between the two and rolling his eyes. He, too, had overheard the fact that Grace was going to the rave – alone. They weren't as close as they once were, but Isaac would be damned if he'd let her go by herself. "How do you two losers even survive?" Isaac wondered aloud, pushing past them and heading toward Greenberg and another lacrosse player who'd scored tickets. He used the method of persuasion which involved fists – but he promised to pay them back as soon as he could.

Handing them to Stiles and Scott, Isaac smirked and walked away, though there was a low, sick feeling in his stomach. He worried about Grace constantly, but he'd never admit that the sinking feeling was because of one of the only people who'd ever cared about him being in danger. Isaac was far too prideful for that and he wouldn't offer the brunette his help, knowing full well that she'd just shake her head. Like Isaac, Grace was prideful, and never asked or accepted help. Perhaps that was why the two were so alike, why Grace allowed Derek to turn him and give him something to live for.

Either way, Isaac would help Grace from a distance for as long as he could. He loved her like a sister and she loved him like a brother. They were pack mates, and pack mates did not let each other down. He winced slightly at the thought of Derek when Grace had been shot, furrowing his brows and turning away from Stiles and Scott, who wore confused expressions. "Just promise me one thing," he said suddenly, turning his head to look at them. "Don't let Grace die?"

Scott swallowed, knowing he couldn't make that promise when Grace was in the state that she was. Not healing was dangerous for a werewolf. "I'll try," he murmured, a vow between he and Isaac. "I promise that I'll try."

**XXX**

That evening, Stiles and Grace rushed out of the Hart household quickly, dressed for the rave as though they were actually going there to party. Grace had chosen a crop top with three-quarter length sleeves, black with large yellow smile faces printed here and there and a pair of tight, high-waisted denim jeans and her favourite platform sandals. She had no idea how she was supposed to dress for a rave, but the disapproving look her mother gave her told her she had headed in the right direction. Clutching a small carry bag, she squinted into the headlights of the sheriff's car as he pulled up, she and Stiles pausing for a quick 'hello'.

"Hey, dad – can't talk, gotta run!"

The sheriff said nothing as he walked past the teens, and Grace furrowed her brow, looking to Stiles with concern. "Hey – wait. Dad, what's wrong?" Stiles asked, frowning deeply as his father turned, shrugging.

"Nothing."

"Where's your gun?" Stiles asked, his voice thickening slightly. The sheriff paused, then answered the question quietly.

"I left it at the station, along with my badge."

"What?"

"We'll talk about it later," sheriff Stilinski said quietly, shaking his head and holding out a hand to quiet his son, who remained persistent. Finally, the sheriff turned toward the two teens again. "It was decided that the son of the police chief stealing police property and having a restraining order filed against him by one of the town's most respected attorney's did not reflect well on the county."

Stiles' mouth fell open. "They fired you."

"No – it's… it's a leave of absence," Paul said, nodding. "It's temporary."

Grace wasn't sure how to react to the news of the sheriff being fired – he'd always been the one she'd call for when she needed assistance, he'd always been the man to save the day. At the store, when she, Lydia and Jackson had their first run in with crazy alpha Peter, or in the woods when she'd snuck out with Scott and Stiles… it seemed so long ago now that everything had been normal. She swallowed, glancing away from the situation and wincing. Her left arm bent at the elbow and crossed her body to grip her other forearm as she waited, unsure if she should say anything.

"Why aren't you angry at me?" Stiles asked, voice cracking slightly.

"I don't know," he admitted, kicking them in the gut. "Maybe I don't want to feel any worse than I already do by, uh, having to yell at my son."

The man had Stiles in tears as he walked away, unlocking the door to Grace's house with the key that had been cut especially for him. Training her hearing, the brunette girl could hear her mother greeting Paul enthusiastically, though the end of her sentence faltered when she saw the man, whose breath hitched slightly. He was crying. Like Stiles, cursing under his breath and walking toward his jeep, sheriff Stilinski was crying. "Stiles, I—" Grace started, but Stiles held up a hand.

"You heard him. Forget it," he muttered, unlocking the jeep and climbing in. Grace had never felt worse in her life.

**XXX**

Grace and Scott left Stiles to his part of the plan, meeting with Erica and Boyd inside the rave and weaving through the crowed. Both Scott and Grace could see Matt standing around with Allison. Grace knew she was supposed to come with the two, but Matt didn't seem like he really cared too much that Grace had taken her ticket and gone with Scott instead. She weaved through the crowd, the body sweat and heat from all the bodies warming her, making her feel part of something.

Despite her numerous scars being on show, she felt euphoric. It was nice, the glow-sticks she couldn't remember finding clutched in her fingers, people running their hands along her skin, feeling as one. Try as she may, she couldn't focus her mind on the mission at hand – she wanted to dance, she wanted to feel something. Was that so bad? Grabbing a partner, the girl looped her arms around a male's neck, body connecting with his as they danced. She grinned as another set locked around her waist and the brunette turned her head to see who her new partner was.

She froze when Jackson's eyes locked with her own.

Only, they weren't his eyes. Turning so she was facing Jackson, she remained with him, dancing with the boy who wasn't hers anymore. She needed to keep an eye on him, make sure he was going nowhere. Soon enough, Isaac was behind Grace and Erica was on the other side of Jackson, the four of their bodies clashing and grinding. Isaac's lips met Grace's ear, and he parted them, whispering, "We have a plan." Nodding, Grace kept her eyes locked on the kanima's, lips tightly pressed together. Isaac's hand dipped to his pocket, where he pulled out the syringe with the drug to paralyse Jackson for a short amount of time.

With their foreheads together, Jackson and Isaac kept their eyes locked, a smirk on the latter's face as he readied himself to prick Jackson. The kanima, however, had other ideas. Claws flashing, he growled deeply at the three betas around him, his nails digging into Erica's flesh. With a groan, she slumped to the floor, Isaac falling underneath the blonde's weight when he tried to catch her. Grace got to her knees, desperately fumbling around for the syringe when her fingers finally closed around it. She scanned around for Jackson, finding him near the DJ table. With her lips to Jackson's ear, she raised the syringe and pushed it into his neck, the ketamine pumping through the tube and into his veins. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, grabbing his slumping frame as Isaac appeared beside her to help. She ignored the thickness in her throat and focused on getting her job done – saving Jackson.

**XXX**

"Are you okay?"

Stiles actually sounded concerned as he walked into the tin-walled room, scowling at Erica when she almost pounced on what could have been an intruder. Grace was unsure were the question was directed – she, Isaac and Erica, or was it meant for Jackson, who was limply sitting in a small chair they'd found in the room. His head was lolled back and his eyes were closed, but his heartbeat was steady. Isaac stepped forward and eyed their victim. "Let's find out." He flashed his claws overdramatically and Grace rolled her eyes, watching close as he raised his arm only for Jackson to grab it in a vice-like grip. The sound of cracking bones and Isaac's groan of pain sounded out for the wolves to hear. Stiles was lucky for his human hearing.

"No one does anything like that again, okay?" Stiles ordered, frantic. He pointed especially at Grace. Suddenly, Jackson's eyes opened though they rolled toward the back of his head slightly. "Let's just hope that whoever's controlling him just decided to show up tonight," he added after Isaac's question about the ketamine.

"I'm here," came the reply, deep and demon-sounding. Grace froze, her body turning to ice as soon as another voice slipped from between Jackson's lips. "I'm right here with you." His gaze turned to theirs, a glare burning Grace's skin. Her bottom lip trembled slightly, but she tried to keep her composure.

"Jackson, is that you?" Stiles asked, squatting before the kanima. Grace knew that it was not the boy she'd fallen for.

"Us. We're all here." Stiles looked back at his friends, confused.

"Are you the one killing people?"

"We are the ones killing murderers."

"So all those people you killed-" Stiles began, only to be cut off by the deep voice.

"Deserved it."

Stiles swallowed, staring intently at Jackson's ice-blue eyes. "See, we've got a little rule book that says you only go after murderers…"

"Anything can break if enough pressure's applied," Jackson replied.

"So all the people you're going after are murderers, right?" Stiles asked, growing confused.

"All. Each and every one of them."

"Who did they murder?"

There was a moment of silence that hung thickly in the air, Grace's hand raising to cover her mouth as she anticipated the response. Finally, the firm voice gave just one word. "Me." Another confused question from Stiles garnered another reply, this one giving more meaning than the last. "They murdered me!" With this, Jackson's eyes turned from the pale blue to the bright orange of the kanima, his jaw tensing as he began to shift. Grace cursed underneath her breath, reaching forward to tug Stiles away from the creature. The scales appeared over his body, his claws sprouting from his fingertips his fangs replacing his teeth. Stiles ushered everybody out as quickly as possible, the four of them leaning against the door.

"Find something to put against the door!" he cried urgently. It was pointless, though – before any of them could move, a hole appeared in the tin wall beside them as Jackson burst through, leaving them standing there, shell shocked and scared.


End file.
